Chapter Twenty-Four #3
Thankfully, Gerrit had already steeled himself for her touch so he didn’t stiffen and jerk away, which even he knew would have been bad.
Instead, he steeled himself yet again and, as if in a trance, laid his arm around her shoulders, earning a satisfied humming sound as she wiggled closer.
His pulse thudded and his gaze flickered over his bedchamber and the comforting order that Court imposed on it, drawing a sense of calm before he turned his attention to his wife’s disheveled curls.
They were the sullen red of a banked fire in the low light of the single candle.
Red was the color of passion and indulgence, meant to whet one’s appetite.
He had never before considered just how much the color suited her.
Everything about her teased his appetite.
She turned to him, her catlike eyes dark and mysterious with the light behind her. “I want to ask you something, but you must promise you will answer me with complete honesty.”
“I would never do otherwise.”
She chuckled wryly. “No, you wouldn’t, would you? Do you like having me here in your bed?”
Gerrit opened his mouth to say no, but thankfully caught himself. Instead, he considered her question. It was undeniable that she felt nice—wonderful, in fact—and he’d begun to harden just sitting beside her.
But—
She started to move away and Gerrit tightened his arm around her, holding her in place easily. “Where are you going?”
“Clearly your answer is no, so I thought I would spare you having to say it,” she said tightly, staring straight ahead rather than at Gerrit.
“Have you ever known me to refrain from speaking my mind, even when it offended you?”
Her lips parted in surprise and then twisted into a wry smile. “No.”
“Look at me, Kathryn.” She turned toward him with grudging slowness.
“I am not like you—” He paused when she made a soft scoffing sound.
“By that I mean I need time to ponder matters. I was giving your question the consideration it deserves. It does make me uncomfortable to have you in my bed, but most of my discomfort is probably due to the fact that I’ve never had a woman in my bed before. ”
“Not—not even your first wife?”
God no! he was tempted to retort.
“No,” he said. “Not even her.”
“What—what about your mistresses?”
Gerrit was amused. “What is this fascination you have about my mistresses?”
“It is not a fascination, I just—well, you said you did not take lovers from the ton nor from your estate. Do you keep a mistress?”
Her voice was scarcely a whisper by the time she reached the last word, and her eyes, which had been fixed on his face, dropped, her blush fiery.
Just what the devil was he supposed to say to that? Well-bred men did not discuss their bits of muslin with their wives, but she had asked. To tell her it was not her concern would, he was certain, bring an end to this delicate détente between them.
“You do not need to tell me,” she said, her expression one of mortification and misery.
“I have always kept a mistress.” Her face fell, and it was like a punch to the chest. Did she really care that much?
Would you care if the situation were reversed? a snide voice asked.
A caustic blend of jealousy and rage boiled up inside him, his hands fisting at the thought of Kathryn so much as looking at another man.
“G-Gerrit?” she asked, her brow pinched with worry.
He forced his hands to unclench. “I have not had a mistress since we married. You are my only lover, Kathryn.”
Something indecipherable flared in her gaze and her lips slowly curved into a shaky smile. “I am—that is a relief.” Almost as quickly as her smile had arrived, it faded.
“What is it?” Gerrit asked.
“It is just that I do not understand how men… do that. Keep a woman just for physical satisfaction with no future objective.”
Gerrit eyed her warily. “Objective?”
She rolled her eyes at him. “Yes, objective. I was raised with the objective of marriage.”
“You are a peer’s daughter; that is entirely natural.”
“My maid, who is not the daughter of an earl, was also raised with the objective of marriage.”
Gerrit considered her comments and question, his mind flickering back to the mistresses he had kept over the years.
There had only been four of them, which was a lot fewer than most men of his class.
How did one explain to a gently brought up lady the arrangement with one’s mistress.
And why was he expected to explain such a thing?
“I can already see you are closing up,” she said.
“Closing up?” he repeated, although he knew exactly what she meant. What was he supposed to do? Tell her all the explicit details? Explain that fucking had always been about physical release to him and never about intimacy.
Until now.
“Did you never become emotionally attached to any of them?”
Gerrit opened his mouth to scoff at the thought of becoming emotionally attached to a mistress when suddenly Amelia leapt to mind.
As uncomfortable as it always was to think of her in those terms, there was no denying she had been his father’s mistress for longer than the duke had been married to Gerrit’s own mother.
For the first time he wondered what that must have been like not only for his father, but for Amelia. For his mother.
Christ. He was truly dull not to have considered any of that before.
“Did you become attached to somebody?” Kathryn asked, misreading the reason for his silence.
“No, I never have,” he said truthfully. “As to why men can do such a thing, I can only answer for myself: It is a matter of convenience, nothing more.”
“Like our marriage,” she said blankly.
Gerrit wanted to deny that, but really, wasn’t it the same thing in a way? Hadn’t he taken the coward’s way out when he’d proposed? If you foreclosed on love—or even affection—then you couldn’t be hurt when it never came.
But that was not something he wanted to talk about. Or even consider too deeply. At least not right now.
Instead, he said, “I know it could not have been easy to come to me tonight.”
Kathryn looked startled, and Gerrit had to admit he’d stunned himself with the rare burst of perspicacity.
“No, it wasn’t.”
“I am grateful you made the effort.”
“I—I had to come because I wanted to explain.”
“Explain what?” he asked, suddenly wary.
“I wish I’d never said what I said. I mean about wanting to, er, get our nightly, uh…” She shook her head, her face scarlet.
Gerrit wanted her—he craved her—but his pride was hungry, demanding to be fed. He had not been the one to reject her, after all.
You are an arse, and a grudge-bearing one, at that.
The accusation struck its target dead center and Gerrit felt ashamed that he could be so petty.
“Are you talking about your request that I only come to your bed for procreative purposes rather than pleasure?” he asked.
Her face was almost as red as her hair, but her shoulders sagged with relief. “Yes. I—I regret saying that. Deeply.” She pleated the top of the sheet over and over again before looking up. “I want to renegotiate the terms of our marriage.”
“What do you mean?” he asked sharply, his guts roiling as he watched her gnaw her lower lip.
“I mean I don’t want to occupy a small corner of your life. I don’t want to tuck myself away in the country—alone—when I am with child.” Her jaw flexed, her expression determined. “I don’t want to live separate lives once our child is born.”
He could not seem to draw enough air into his lungs.
“Gerrit?”
She sounded so vulnerable that it shook him from his daze. He looked at her beautiful face and struggled to leash the joy leaping inside him like an exuberant puppy. “You want to remain at Briarly?” he asked, sounding harsh and cold to his own ears.
“It’s not Briarly, Gerrit. I want to be where you are.” The last three words were scarcely a whisper.
He knew his jaw had sagged and he probably looked even uglier than usual with such a stupefied look on his face, but he suddenly didn’t care. He nodded slowly, holding her gaze. “Yes, I would like that. A great deal.”
“Truly?” she squealed.
Gerrit almost laughed. “Truly.”
“Good. Good—that’s, I’m—” She gave a breathy chuckle. “Thank God.” She lowered her gaze before him, the submissive gesture arrowing straight to his cock.
Gerrit took her chin and turned her to meet his gaze. The dominating, controlling bastard that lived inside him gorged on her squirming and blushing. “As to your question from earlier—about having you in my bed.”
“Oh, yes?”
“The pleasure of feeling you next to me, and of talking to you, far outweighs any discomfort engendered by a new situation. That is my honest answer.” He released her chin, but she did not turn away.
Instead, she caught his hand and held it. “Thank you.”
He nodded, too disoriented by the pleasurable press of her slender fingers on his beastly paw to speak.
“Will you tell me something?” she asked, lightly stroking his palm.
He would never have believed there was a direct connection between his palm and cock.
“Gerrit?”
“Er, I beg your pardon—what did you want me to tell you?”
“Just… something. Something about you.”
He frowned. “I don’t understand.”
She gave him an exasperated look. “I am trying to get to know you.”
For the first time he could remember, his mind was blank. A complete and utter blank.