Chapter 9
Over the next three weeks, Eli learned more lessons about ladies than he had in his entire life.
His woman, specifically, though she and her sisters seemed to share certain proclivities.
He’d taken to carrying a notebook in his jacket pocket to jot things down as he forged his way across the mire of marriage.
He’d underlined this for further discussion.
After said conclusion, many women broke into smaller groups to discuss their feelings and opinions about the conclusion, much of which was not expressed during the conference, in order to avoid conflict.
It was, however, expressed at length to him that his opinions at these conferences were about as welcome as a woman in a voting booth.
Eli’d never had much of a strong opinion on politics either way, but after a week of marriage, he’d become convinced that if women ran the world, a lot more would be accomplished and agreed upon.
And with a great deal more humanity.
Lesson #5: There were certain excursions to which he was not and never would be welcome.
These included but were not limited to: the seamstress, the haberdashers, the milliners, and particular afternoon society calls where it was explained to him that he was most often the topic of conversation.
Consequently, his physical presence would ruin the entire affair.
This, Eli didn’t mind so much, as he only allowed his wife out of the bedroom under extreme duress.
Unless it was to fuck somewhere else in the house. So far, his wife had been such an enthusiastic initiate to the marriage bed, he was fairly sure she didn’t attend these events to complain.
Granted, she could castigate him for a myriad of his flaws, this he knew.
So, to be safe, he sent her out of the house with her eyes half-lidded and her knees wobbly from a recent come.
He’d go about his business as usual, confident he’d pleasured her into forgetting any unkind thoughts she might be harboring.
Life with a woman confused, amused, pleasured and suited him so much more than he’d ever imagined. Often, when pouring over accounts of his most recent acquisitions, he’d catch an unfamiliar reflection in a mirror, taking a moment to recognize himself, grinning like the town idiot.
Much like he was doing now, reclined in the observatory at some ungodly hour, wishing his wife would bend further over the telescope.
If she did, the shirt of his she wore might just lift enough to give him a naughty view.
One would think he’d enjoyed enough of a scintillating eyeful as she’d climbed astride him for the first time. He’d harassed and goaded her into riding his face, and after that, she’d needed some help riding his cock, as her legs had nearly given out after the first couple of climaxes.
That view had been sublime. Rosaline above him, arched with pleasure, hair flung back, the long ends tickling his thighs as she bounced and bucked with sobs and cries that echoed in his mind as clearly as they’d done from the glass ceiling.
The stars weren’t out tonight, but the sky reflected layers of light from the city with strange, swirling clouds that made her appear as if their passion had summoned some otherworldly storm.
Eli still wasn’t convinced she was of this world.
Unable to stifle a yawn, he indulged in a full-body stretch over the cushions they’d scattered over the floor in order to enjoy an indoor winter picnic.
They’d consumed all the custard and dried fruit, and put a dent in the block of hard cheese and fresh loaf of bread the maid had arranged for him in a basket, along with a lovely bottle of red.
Eli hadn’t minded so much that their honeymoon was delayed, as he’d not wanted to waste time traveling that could be spent fornicating. And yet, he’d noted a shadow cross her features when her brother and his intended discussed their honeymoon at dinner the other night.
For the first week of their marriage, the Goode family had left them largely alone, allowing the couple to cosset themselves in the cocoon of their bedroom, discovering the delight and desire they’d never shared with another soul.
Eventually, Morley had called around under the guise of discussing business, which they’d not been able to do between the barrage of questions regarding the well-being of his wife.
It occurred to Eli to be insulted, but as his wife had greeted her brother-in-law glowing with a luminous smile he’d not noted before their wedding, he’d been happy to sit in smug satisfaction as she shared her conviction of their suitability.
Tonight, he’d decided to seduce her in her favorite room in the house, which had most definitely been one of his more genius ideas.
Over a sensual meal, he’d allowed her to decide the destination of their honeymoon, and she’d finally landed on Norway, of all places, so she could see the northern lights.
Figured she would choose one of the coldest places on earth…
But in the afterglow of what they’d just done, he’d have offered to pull her on a dogsled around the arctic circle if that’s what she wanted.
He suggested they take a small trip through Italy on their way back, and she’d enthusiastically agreed.
“We should turn in,” he said over a second more merciful yawn. “If we’re going to catch the early train to Devon, we’ll hate ourselves if we don’t get a little sleep. I’m eager to inspect my new holdings.”
“I am keen to do so, as well, but I think I see a bit of sky over there.” She pointed to the west, not looking up from the telescope. “What if it comes this way and there’s a break in the clouds?”
He cast the sky a dubious look but didn’t have the heart to say more.
“December skies are famously fickle, you know,” she continued, consulting a periodical she’d opened over the logbook. “As are the Geminids.”
“Those are the twin constellations, right?”
She looked over at him with approval. “The meteors that move across the twin constellations, but yes. You remembered!”
“I’m learnin’, lady.” He poured on the patois he knew amused her so much, scratching idly at where her nails had bit into his bare chest. “Turns out you can teach this old dog a couple of new tricks.”
“I have an appreciation for the old tricks, as well,” she said with a wicked grin that stopped his heart.
“Come over here then, honey, and I’ll— Hey, pssst. Castor!
” he hissed at a ginger kitten as it attacked what was left of the block of cheese with predatory vigor.
“Git off there, you little demon.” He lifted the squirmy body from their leftovers and plunked it next to a grey tabby that’d already climbed into his lap.
The two immediately went to war, and Eli was glad he’d slid back into his pants in order to protect his pecker.
“The ginger is Astrid, the calico is Castor,” Rosaline corrected with a teasing smile. “So much for your memory.”
“Oh. Right.” He blinked over at the tiny brood that’d become lesson #8 or was it 9?
Didn’t matter, he’d learned the hard way that if he ever said “no” to animals, she was just going to do what the hell she wanted anyhow. So, it was ultimately easier to accept the fact you can’t have a soft-hearted wife without a few critters for her to spend her love on.
Besides, they were kinda cute when they weren’t tempting him toward murder.
He eyed the other end of the rug he occupied with narrowed eyes. Sometime during their interlude, the kittens had found their way into the observatory and knocked over their open bottle of wine on the parquet floor.
That hadn’t been difficult to clean, but at some point, the priceless rare carpet was forever ruined by soaked pads of little burgundy kitten paws.
And he’d not yet identified the culprit.
“I feel like one’s missing.” He searched the room. “Nova and Orion are by the globe over there, and I saw Ursa creep beneath the desk. I’ve Astrid and Castor here.”
“And Pollux,” she said, sweeping up another on her way to settle on the floor beside him, setting the kitten next to the brawling siblings.
“Where’s that white one?” he asked.
“Draco?” She twisted this way and that, the fabric between the buttons of his shirt parting a little to give him tantalizing glances of her pert breasts. “I haven’t seen him.”
He tried to remember when he had ever liked to just look at a woman so much and came up empty.
“You should have named one Andromeda,” he offered, allowing Castor to gnaw on the tip of his thumb with tiny teeth.
“Oh?” She lifted her brows. “It makes sense, I suppose, that you’d have a fondness for myths about dragon-slaying heroes.”
He reached for her, capturing her chin beneath his thumb and forefinger, pulling her close for a kiss. “I don’t know much about that, but it was the night of the Andromeda meteor shower that I discovered I’d a fondness for you.”
Her answering smile made him light-headed.
Pulling her close, he arranged the pillows so they were both comfortable, before draping her over his chest and pulling her leg to cover his where he employed lesson #11.
Women liked to be stroked and caressed in places other than their sexual bits.
A man could get a woman to acquiesce to all sorts of depravity if he spent enough time tickling the underside of her arm, the little columns beside her spine, or the divots in her lower back and the smooth curve of her hips without requesting sex.
He supposed it shouldn’t be a discovery that women wanted to be appreciated for more than their naughtier parts, but he was ashamed to say it was… Eli wondered how many other husbands had never cottoned to this discovery and missed out on one of the more enjoyable intimacies of marriage.
Rosaline didn’t seem to mind his rough skin, arching just as shamelessly as one of the kittens in search of his touch as goosepimples lifted the fine hairs on her body.
“Tell me this dragon-slaying myth,” he asked, deceptively nonchalant. Was he the hero of this story? Or the dragon protecting his hoard of treasure.