This Calder Range (Calder Saga 1)

“Please.” She didn’t think she should be talking about such things, even if they were married.

“You liked it, didn’t you?” It was more statement than question, and Lorna was immediately worried that she had found the lovemaking too enjoyable. She didn’t want Benteen to think she was a common street tramp.

“No,” she lied.

“What?” He levered himself onto an elbow and studied her with a narrowed skeptical look. “I didn’t get that impression.”

“I can’t help that.” She tried not to look at him.

“If you disliked it, why did you seem so willing … so eager?” Benteen challenged quietly.

“You are my husband. I can’t deny you the rights of the marriage bed,” Lorna murmured.

He caught her chin and forced her to look at him. “Why are you lying?” he demanded with curious intensity. “I was watching you the first time. You’re too innocent to fake a climax.”

She turned red with shame and tried to squirm away from him, but Benteen held her fast, quickly pinning her to the mattress. She tried to hide her face from him, but he wouldn’t permit it.

“I didn’t mean for anything like that to happen,” she whispered tightly. “I didn’t know how to stop it.”

“Why would you want to?” he asked incredulously.

“Because …” Lorna hesitated, confused by his question. “I don’t want you to think that … I’m bad.”

His gaze narrowed still further, probing deep into her eyes. “You surely don’t think that feeling passion makes you bad?” The accusing question was barely spoken when his features smoothed out. “My God, you do,” Benteen murmured. “Who put that thought in your head?”

“It’s what I thought.” She remained wary and unsure. “Although it was never said in so many words.”

“I knew you were young, but …” The rest of the sentence was dismissed with a shake of his head. “Passion is a feeling that occurs naturally between a man and wife—or a man and woman, for that matter. It isn’t wrong to like sex.” Her glance fell at his blunt use of the word. “Can you even say it?”

“Of course.” But a heat invaded her.

Benteen tipped his head down to look at her, a warm amusement lighting his eyes with patience. “Then say it. Better yet, say that you enjoyed having sex with your husband.”

“I … enjoyed having sex with my husband.” After a faltering start, Lorna rushed through the sentence.

“Did you?” he asked.

“Yes,” she admitted in a faint murmur, still doubting that it was something she should acknowledge.

“Maybe if I had you say it a thousand times, it would sound more like an expression of love instead of a confession of guilt,” Benteen suggested dryly.

“I do love you.” Lorna never intended for him to think otherwise.

“You damn well better not love anyone else,” he declared on a mock threat, and reached over to turn down the lamp’s wick.

“Wait.” Lorna stayed his hand. “I have to get my nightgown.”

“No.” He turned the wick down and cupped a hand to the glass chimney, blowing out the flame. Then he was gathering her naked body into his arms and pillowing her head on his chest. “We’re going to sleep in the raw tonight. I don’t want you to be self-conscious about your body—or mine.”

“I’ll try.” But it wasn’t easy when his body was so vitally hard and warm. She doubted if her awareness of it would ever permit her to relax enough to sleep.

His hands rubbed over her. “You don’t belong anywhere else but right here, Lorna.” It was a firm statement of ownership. “This is only the beginning, with a lot more to come. Woman was made to give a man pleasure.”

Something in his remark prompted Lorna to remember the advice given to her by that sporting lady, Pearl Rogers. It started a whole chain of thoughts.

“Benteen?” Her hand made an absent exploration into the curling hair on his chest. “Have you had … sex with many women?”

“What’s this?” There was a smile in his voice. “An investigation into my sordid past?”