“Preliminaries?” He cast a mischievous grin though doubted she meant the claiming of her body. “Are you so eager to get the deed done? If you’re referring to the business of marriage, then I would rather savour the moment not rush.”
The apples of her cheeks flamed. “I … I was referring to the mundane tasks of settling in.”
“You’ll soon come to know that I’m uncomfortable with all mundane aspects of life.” He moistened his lips. “I refuse to temper my wild imagination and hope there will be nothing ordinary about settling in.”
“It … it appears we are having different conversations.”
“Once we begin, I’m sure we’ll be singing the same tune.” Damn. For a man who’d spent years avoiding marriage, he sounded desperate to consummate their union. Then again, since the night he’d promised to wed her, he’d not looked at another woman, let alone satisfied his carnal needs.
“Did you mind me inviting Herbert to dinner?” She bit down on her bottom lip. The abrupt change of subject was perhaps a way of settling her nerves. “It is obvious he admires you greatly, and it would give us an opportunity to become better acquainted.”
“There has never been a need to invite him before as we meet each week at Boodle’s.” Herbert Chandler never sat in judgement. He never spoke of the past. In that regard, he was an ideal companion. One could only hope Priscilla did not feel the need to pry into their family history. “But perhaps we should wait until we’re more at ease with one another.”
“Do you find me too presumptuous?” Two thin lines appeared between her brows. “Here we are married for little over an hour, and already I am organising your diary.”
“Had I any objection, I would have said so.”
They stared at one another. Neither knew what the hell to do or say next. Damn it all. Marriage proved to be harder than he’d imagined.
“Come, let me show you to your bedchamber.” He gestured to the stairs. “You can wash and change before dinner.” And he needed time alone to decide how best to proceed.
Priscilla touched her stomach. “After such a wonderful wedding banquet I doubt I’ll have room to eat again today.”
“Then we must find a way to work up an appetite.” The comment roused the memory of their heated kisses in the carriage. Judging by the slight tremble of her chin, she understood his meaning perfectly.
“Will we be sleeping together?” She struggled to hold his gaze.
Was it a trick question? “Excuse me?”
“Are we to share a chamber or will we have separate rooms?”
“I thought separate rooms would be best.” A man needed the freedom to strut around naked. And having experienced many illicit liaisons, one woman’s body looked much the same as another. It was the intimacy of seeing her wash and brush out her hair that threatened to destroy his equilibrium. “We will both want privacy.”
Rather than her tight shoulders sagging with relief, she narrowed her gaze. The look suggested he had made a grave error. How odd.
“I understand.” She nodded. “You do not want to make excuses to be alone. But you should know that I will not make demands on your time. I am not a woman who moans or mithers. I am not a leech intent on sucking you dry.”
Bloody hell!
Did the lady not understand that certain phrases forced a man to think wicked thoughts? He considered her full pink lips, imagined threading his fingers through her hair as she knelt before him.
Eager to experience the fantasy, his cock swelled and pushed against the fall of his breeches. Matthew swallowed hard. Damn. He could not take his bride in the middle of the afternoon. It suggested an element of desperation, suggested he lacked control.
“No doubt we will have cause to reassess the living arrangements as problems arise.” To tell her they might sleep together at night would only give false hope. Besides, most married couples slept separately. “Nothing is set in stone. For now, I suggest we continue as planned.”
“Then lead the way,” she said with an air of resignation.
Matthew gave a curt bow and motioned to the stairs. “After you.”
He followed behind, observed the gentle sway of curvaceous hips, pictured the same scene minus the clothes.
Coming to a halt on the landing, she waited for his direction.
“Your bedchamber overlooks the garden.” He walked to a room further along the corridor, opened the door and stepped back for her to enter. “It’s generally quieter unless I’m hosting an event. Hopefully, no one will disturb you.”
With some hesitation she stepped inside, twirled around to scan the decor, stroked the
dusky-pink bed hangings as her wide eyes focused on the large four-poster bed.