Chapter 9 #2
Rowan led the way down the dimly lit corridor, the soft rustle of Tamsin’s sapphire silk skirts following behind him.
Dinner had been... pleasant. More than pleasant; it had been a revelation.
She truly seemed to want to get to know him, to understand what he wanted.
For the first time in ages, he didn’t feel quite so alone.
He found himself thinking of the way she had looked him in the eye and requested a seat at the table by his side.
Most women in his orbit were either terrified of his reputation or performed a coy, practiced dance to gain his attention, but Tamsin had simply reached out and bridged the gap.
He liked that about her—that sudden, quiet initiative.
It suggested a woman who, despite her sheltered upbringing, had a core of steel.
He pushed open the heavy oak doors to the library, and the familiar scent of old paper, leather, and cedarwood enveloped them. “This is my favorite room in the house,” he said, stepping aside to let her enter.
Tamsin gasped, her eyes widening as she took in the walls of floor-to-ceiling shelves, packed with thousands of volumes. “Rowan, it’s magnificent. I had no idea... I had hoped that you might have a small library, but I didn’t dare to hope. I certainly didn’t expect this.”
“A rake is expected to spend his nights in gaming hells, not lost in the pages of a history book,” Rowan said with a self-deprecating smile. “Don’t get me wrong, I have certainly spent my share of nights in gaming hells, but I spend far more time here.”
He watched her move toward a shelf of classical philosophy, her fingers trailing reverently over the spines.
“I find that books are far more reliable than people,” he continued.
“They don’t gossip, and they don’t demand you be someone you aren’t.
Reading was the only thing that kept me sane during the long winters my parents spent at each other’s throats. ”
She turned back to him, her expression softened by a look of genuine surprise. “You are full of secrets, Rowan. I have always been able to lose myself in books as well. I can’t wait to explore your collection.”
“I’m sure you’ll find some treasures,” he replied, a thrill running through him at her enthusiasm.
She made a circuit of the room before they moved to the pair of wingback chairs positioned before the fireplace, where a low flame flickered in the grate.
For a few minutes, they spoke of authors and preferred genres, the day’s tension fading into the background.
He was pleased to learn that she loved reading as much as he did and had a strange thought that perhaps she would be most happy sitting beside him while both of them had their noses in books.
What a pleasant thought! He’d never even considered that marriage could mean quiet evenings pursuing shared interests.
But as the clock on the mantel chimed nine, the atmosphere shifted. The light of the fire cast long, dancing shadows across Tamsin’s face. It was getting late, and they would soon have to head upstairs.
As though she’d had the same thought, she took a breath, her posture straightening. “Rowan, there is something we must discuss. Regarding tonight.”
Rowan leaned back, his pulse quickening. He’d already decided to give her all the time she needed, but he expected a plea for more time, or perhaps a shy, maidenly deflection.
“What exactly do you expect of me tonight?” she asked, her face flaming with embarrassment at her blunt question.
“Specifically... do you expect me to perform the act I witnessed at Vauxhall? The one you were engaged in with your mistress? I must inform you that I am at a loss. I never even imagined such an act, and I have no idea how to do it.”
Caught between a laugh and profound shock, Rowan felt heat rise in his own cheeks.
He was a man who had navigated the most scandalous boudoirs in London, yet his wife had just managed to leave him momentarily speechless.
“Most wives do not do such things, Tamsin,” he managed eventually, his voice a bit rough.
“It is... a different sort of intimacy. Meant solely for pleasure, not procreation.”
“But you did enjoy it?” she pressed, her gaze unwavering. “It seemed as though you enjoyed it.”
Rowan looked into the fire, determined to give her the honesty she’d asked for earlier, but uncertain what he should say to his virgin wife about his trysts with other women. He felt that this was very dangerous ground. “Very much so,” he finally admitted. “It feels wonderful.”
Tamsin nodded slowly, processing the information with a calmness that Rowan found both baffling and incredibly alluring.
“I intend to allow you your husbandly rights, Rowan. I made a vow today. However, I am still... quite new to all of this. I hope that we might ease into the physical side of our relationship as we get to know one another. I should like for it to be something we both find pleasure in, rather than a duty I am performing for the sake of an heir.”
Rowan reached out, his hand covering hers on the arm of the chair. Her skin was cool, and he felt a surge of protective affection that had nothing to do with the lust he usually felt for a woman, though, of course, he felt that, too. He’d been hard since she mentioned that night at Vauxhall.
“Tamsin,” he said gently, “I am in no rush to claim my ‘rights.’ In fact, I abhor the notion of thinking of it that way. If all we do tonight is sleep in the same house, then that is enough. I want your trust far more than I want your body. I want you to be comfortable with me before I take you to my bed.”
A deep blush flooded Tamsin’s cheeks, creeping up from the neckline of her dress to the tips of her ears.
She looked down at their joined hands, her shoulders visibly dropping as a long, shaky breath of relief escaped her.
For a moment, the library was silent, save for the crackle of the burning logs.
“Thank you, Rowan,” she whispered. Then she looked up, a spark of that newfound boldness returning to her eyes. “However, I do hope for at least another kiss tonight. If you are amenable.”
A genuine smile tugged at his lips. She was adorable. “I believe I can manage that,” he murmured. “I am, in fact, quite amenable.”
He rose from his chair and offered his hand.
When she took it, he pulled her gently to her feet.
They stood close in the amber glow of the hearth.
Rowan reached up, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw, memorizing the delicate beauty of her features before he tilted her face upward.
He leaned in, closing the distance slowly to give her every chance to pull away, but she only leaned forward to meet him.
The kiss was slow and soft, tasting of the wine they’d shared at dinner and the heat of the fire, a promise rather than a demand.
Kissing her, knowing she was his, his wife, was incredibly intoxicating.
He could feel her own desire, her willingness to please him, and the need that swelled within him was deeper than anything he’d ever known before.
When he eventually drew back, his forehead resting against hers, he had to battle himself to keep from reaching for her again.
He felt as though he could spend hours simply kissing her.
“How was that?” he asked hoarsely.
“It was wonderful.” She stepped away and blinked up at him, seeming a little dazed. He loved that she looked flustered and aroused by a mere kiss and couldn’t wait to show her what other delights lay in store for them.
“Come,” he said, his voice thick with an emotion he couldn’t quite name. “It has been a long day for both of us.”
He kept her hand tucked firmly in the crook of his arm as they climbed the grand staircase. The house was quiet now, the servants having retreated to their own quarters. When they reached the door to her bedchamber, he stopped, took her hand, and pressed a lingering kiss to her knuckles.
“Rest well, my lovely bride,” he said. “I shall see you at breakfast.”
He waited until she had slipped inside and the door had clicked shut before he finally turned toward his own rooms, feeling more like a husband than he ever thought possible, even though he’d yet to consummate his marriage.