Chapter 25
Thalia’s heart was pounding in her ears. This wasn’t how she’d imagined it. In her mind, she would retire quietly to bed, unnoticed, while Christian stayed downstairs and entertained their guests.
Why was he here?
She shuffled closer to the door, clearing her throat. It wasn’t locked, and yet he waited patiently outside.
“What is it? Is there some kind of trouble?”
“Trouble?” he echoed. “No, no trouble, just a man out here wondering why his bride isn’t enjoying herself downstairs.”
Thalia bit her lip. “I suppose I’m still something of a wallflower deep down. I don’t like all the attention. I don’t like being looked at very much.”
She could still feel countless eyes on her. She could still hear Christian’s deep, confident vow ringing in her ears.
I do.
“You look very beautiful, Thalia. You should not feel uncomfortable.”
“It’s not that I feel uncomfortable. In fact, I like the way I look.
I know it’s not considered proper or modest for a lady to think that way, but I do.
I have an ordinary, pleasant face and healthy body which gets me where I need to go.
I am entirely content with that, and yet I still do not like being the center of attention. ”
“I understand,” he murmured. “So I take it that you aren’t coming downstairs anytime soon?”
“Well, I hadn’t intended to. Unless you think I should? Is my stepmother missing me?”
“I believe that Lady Hawton is talking to her friends. I left her looking extremely happy.”
“Good. That’s good.”
“It is me, in fact, who misses you.”
The hairs on the back of her neck prickled. She swallowed, shifting from foot to foot. “Oh?”
“Oh, indeed. So, I’ll ask you again, my dear. Can I come in?”
Thalia closed her eyes tight. She ought to tell him that she was tired, and he would doubtless accept that with grace and slip away.
“Very well,” she heard herself say. “You can come in. Just for a moment, though.”
The door inched open, revealing Christian in all of his delightfully disheveled wedding finery. He leaned against the doorframe, his cravat askew, and he lifted an eyebrow when their eyes met.
“You are meant to be enjoying your wedding day, my dear.”
“Would you believe me if I said that I was?” she countered.
He chuckled. “I daresay I would. Well, do you mind if I step inside?”
“Be my guest.”
He stepped inside, gaze flicking critically over the interior.
“I instructed Hooves to have this room prepared,” he admitted. “It’s been empty for a while. Well, not empty, but unused. Rooms begin to smell musty if they’re left unused for too long.”
“Well, he’s done a fine job. It’s remarkably comfortable here.”
Christian gave a small smile and pushed the door shut behind him. He prowled around the room, inspecting this and that, almost as if looking for flaws. Thalia sank down onto a low stool by the fire and watched him.
He moved with the grace of a predator, of some large, sinuous animal, like a lion or a tiger. She watched him, her breath catching in her throat, and found that she could not look away. The fire in the hearth, dancing higher and higher, seemed to fill the air with an intense, prickling heat.
Something is going to happen.
Christian paused to readjust a fold of the heavy velvet curtains and turned to face her.
“The truth is, I came to see if you were all right, Your Grace,” he said, a faint smile creeping onto his face. “Duchess.”
A smile tugged at her mouth. “I don’t believe I’ll ever get used to being called that.”
“You do get accustomed to it, and sooner than you think. Just like you’ll get accustomed to married life.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “I hope you’ll forgive me, but I don’t particularly enjoy being married to someone who swears he does not wish to touch me.”
He went very still. “And that’s what you think?”
She lifted her chin. “That’s what I know. You made that very clear.”
He prowled towards her, coming to a stop only a pace away.
“Oh, dear,” he breathed, crouching down in front of her. “I can see that we’ve had a huge misunderstanding here. I shall have to remedy that at once.”
She drew in a sharp breath, but before she could say a word or move or do anything, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers.
The kiss was hot and intense, his tongue caressing the tip of hers, a gentle press of teeth against her lower lip. Heat flared in her gut, a powerful rush of feeling that made her limbs tingle.
His arm slid around her waist, anchoring her, and his free hand cupped the nape of her neck. When he pulled back, their lips parting just enough to let them both drag in a lungful of air, he chuckled low.
“This is not the conservatory,” he purred. “You can be as loud as you like.”
To highlight his point, his fingers inched down the curve of her breasts, caressing her through the material. More heat flooded through her, tendrils of pleasure curling along with it. She felt, rather than heard, Christian’s name rolling off her tongue. It made her shiver.
It’s my wedding night, she thought, heart pounding in her ears, pleasure trickling through her and intensifying. Why shouldn’t we?
The world spun around her as he swept her up and into his arms. He carried her easily across the room and dropped her onto the mattress. It knocked the breath from her, and for a moment, she stared up at him, the world spinning around her.
This is it.
Christian leaned over her, a slow grin spreading across his face. He kissed her again, more softly this time. She reached up, grabbing his shoulders.
“Touch me,” she breathed, the words clawing their way out of her throat almost without her consent.
He gave a low, rumbling growl and momentarily let his weight press her into the mattress. A tingle started up in her gut at the sensation, growing more and more insistent until she heard herself moan aloud. But just as soon as it had come, the pressure eased.
He lifted himself on his elbow, and with his free hand, tugged at her skirts.
She shifted her hips, not caring how impatient she looked.
The heavy brocade bunched in his hand, and he growled in annoyance.
He tugged hard, and she felt the fabric give a little.
There was a tearing sound, and she briefly mourned the fine gown, but then Christian touched her bare skin, and all thoughts flew out of her head.
His fingers slid up her thigh, making her quiver. She pressed a hand over her mouth to smother her moans, but his hand shot out, fingers curling around her wrist, and tugged it away.
“Don’t you dare,” he breathed. “You better let me hear you. I’ve earned it.”
She nodded, eyes wide, and he slid his hand down her body once more. His fingers brushed her thighs, and she sighed, closing her eyes and letting her legs fall open.
He stroked her wet folds, and she let out a ragged gasp. Pleasure arced through her, sharp and hot, and she pressed her hips up into his touch. He gave a low growl, lips pressed against her throat. He stroked her faster, before pressing his fingers against her entrance.
She gasped once more, and then he slid a finger inside her. The sensation was different, more intense and certainly more pleasurable.
His fingers pumped into her, and she squeezed her eyes shut, sparks dancing behind her lids. He growled something under his breath that she could not quite hear, before her climax crashed over her like a wave.
The pleasure did not immediately subside. It lingered, fizzing in her veins for a long, giddy moment.
She opened her eyes, the light seeming to burn, and focused on Christian’s face looming over her.
“What a wonderful start to our wedding night,” she managed weakly. “But only the start, I hope?”
He blinked, the lust in his eyes fading, replaced by… well, she couldn’t say what. Disappointment? Hesitation?
“It’s late,” he said softly. “You’ve had a long day. I’ll leave you to sleep.” He pulled back, sliding off the mattress.
Thalia struggled up onto her elbows. Her head was still a little foggy, limbs limp with pleasure, and she was faintly aware that her hair, carefully braided and styled for the wedding ceremony, had started to come undone at the back.
“What do you mean?” she stammered. “I thought… Well, since we’ve already done a great deal of what… of what men and women do together, I thought we would go a little further. Ahem. I thought we would go all the way.”
“All the way?” he echoed. “All the way where?”
She reddened. “You know what I mean.”
“I’m not sure I do. How do you know we haven’t done all there is to do?”
She narrowed her eyes. “I know we haven’t.”
“Hmm. Well, I think we should leave it there.”
He poured a generous glass of wine and gently set it on the bedside table beside her pillow.
She struggled up into a sitting position and reached for his hand. She managed to seize his cuff before he turned away.
“Why do you want to leave it there?” she demanded. “Men aren’t supposed to be like this. They ought to want things.”
“And who says I am like other men? I’m not sure I know what you want from me, my dear.”
She tightened her jaw. “I am… I am asking you to lie with me, I suppose. As husband and wife. We ought to try it at least once, I think.”
He swallowed, glancing away. “Perhaps not.”
A flare of annoyance shot through her. “Why not?”
“Because it is different with you.”
“How? How could it possibly be different? You have done this with many women, haven’t you? Why not me? What is wrong with me?”
He closed his eyes. “I never said that there was anything wrong with you.”
She slid unsteadily off the bed, facing him. Her legs felt like jelly, and she could feel her skirt hanging lopsided where it had been torn. The tear could be fixed, but the hurt in her chest might not fade so quickly.
“What is wrong with me?” she whispered. “You say you desire me so much, but you won’t do as I ask. Is it because I am a wallflower? Do you think I’m too likely to fall in love with you? What is it?”
He faced her, eyes narrowing. “It’s because I don’t trust myself with you, Thalia.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means that if I touch you the way you want, the way you are begging me to, then I will not be able to control myself. Those women you mention were not you. They didn’t test my willpower, didn’t make me want to lose control at every waking moment.
I could keep them at a distance. I could ensure that there would be no child.
I cannot do that with you. I don’t trust myself. ”
She blinked up at him, struggling for words, but none came.
Eventually, he turned on his heel and walked silently out of the room, closing the door behind him.
She stared at the closed door for a long minute. His words still made no sense.
What does he mean, lose control? I never meant to test him.
Another thought followed, a stark realization that she had gone as far as she could.
I can’t push him any further. I can’t beg him. I won’t beg him. If he wants distance between us, then there is nothing left but for me to give him that.
Swallowing back tears, she slowly undressed, peeling off her fine brocade and leaving it crumpled on the floor. She climbed into bed, and despite the raucous chatter and laughter drifting up from the party below, she fell asleep.
Christian’s hands were still shaking by the time he returned to his room. He had left Edwin and Daphne to preside over the party downstairs, and they had wisely chosen not to ask questions about where he was going. He was grateful for that.
When he stepped inside his room, Hooves was there, folding linen. He blinked up at Christian, surprised.
“Your Grace, forgive me. I thought you would be downstairs for hours yet. I had planned to get ahead on preparing your room for tonight.”
“I’m retiring now,” Christian said briskly.
A flicker crossed the butler’s face, but he was too well-trained to let any emotion show. “Very good, Your Grace. Shall I make preparations?”
“I’d like a bath first. A cold one.”
This time, Hooves’ eyebrows did jerk a little. “A bath?”
“Yes, if you don’t mind. As cold as you can manage.”
Hooves bowed and slipped out of the room.
Christian stood there for a moment, his heart hammering in his chest, then crossed to the drinks cart.
He poured himself a glass of whiskey, hands still shaking, and drank it down in one gulp.
It was as if he were on fire. His limbs tingled, his skin prickled, and heat still swirled in his groin. He could think of nothing but her.
How is it possible to want someone so badly?
He had no answer.
Squeezing his eyes shut, he tightened his fingers around the whiskey glass. Cracks began spreading beneath his fingers.
I must stay away from her. That’s the only solution here. We must live entirely separate lives.