Blake chuckled, close to the screen. She had forgotten his ability to pad soundlessly about, surprising her when she least expected him. ‘I am already used to that, never fear. I missed you, Emily.’
And I missed you too, my love. ‘You did?’ She tried not to sound too eager, to embarrass both of them. Her fingers hesitated at the ties of her gown. He was very near. Should she just step out, into his arms? Was that proper wifely behaviour, or should she wait for him to make the first move? Her head was spinning and she must do this right.
‘Eight weeks is a long time for a man to be without his wife. Especially when he is snatched away on his wedding night.’ He sounded more distant, as though he had strolled off to explore the room.
‘It is precisely the same length of time as it is for a woman,’ she observed, as she secured the neck of her gown. Her stays, fortunately, fastened at the front.
By the sound of it he had not sought female company elsewhere. Thank goodness. She had no idea if she would have been surprised if he had: she knew so little of men or what to expect. All she knew was that it would have hurt.
Emily took a deep breath and came out from behind the screen with the empty ewer in her hands. Her husband, stark naked, except for the strapping on his shoulder and a sheet hitched around his waist, was studying the prospect from the window. Against the light she could not see more than a silhouette but it presented her with an excellent, and unsettling, view of broad shoulders, narrow waist and long legs. ‘You have lost weight,’ she said. Somehow she kept her voice steady. She moved closer and saw the honed muscles were sharply defined beneath skin that had lost what little fat had underlain it.
Blake turned. ‘It is nothing serious. We were behind enemy lines without much to eat, that is all.’
‘What?’ It was not until he lunged forward and caught the jug that she realised that it had dropped from her nerveless hands. ‘Behind enemy lines? Is that not very dangerous? Blake, put that stupid jug down, let me look at you!’ All the shyness vanished as she threw herself at him, her hands running over his torso, reassuring herself that he really was all right.
‘Hush.’ Blake put the ewer on the floor and gathered Emily firmly into his arms. ‘You are sounding like an agitated hen with one chick. Behind the lines their guns are all pointing the other way. Much safer.’
She wriggled so that she could get her hands free and buried them in his hair on either side of his face, the stubble on his cheeks prickling her palms as she searched his face with anxious eyes. ‘Do not jest! I do not believe that for one moment.’ Oh, she could hit him if she was not so thankful he was safe.
Blake shrugged. ‘Don’t you dare cry.’
Emily sniffed. ‘Why not?’
‘Because I want to make love to you and I don’t want you all salty.’
Oh. Oh, at last. Her hands slid round to his shoulders, holding lightly as her fingertips brushed the bandage. Blake bent his head and kissed her, his lips moulding over hers, not with the restrained pressure that he had used while they were courting, or even the laughing passion they had shared in the chaise on their wedding day, but with the arrogant possessiveness of a returning warrior. Blake’s kiss did not ask permission, it told her quite firmly that she belonged to him and that he was set on making up for their enforced separation without dela
y.
When he freed his mouth to catch the lobe of her ear between his teeth she gasped. ‘Now?’
‘Now,’ he growled, his hands closing around her waist as he lifted her onto the bed. ‘Here and now is where this marriage begins.’
Chapter Three
Emily lay amidst the rumpled bedding and said, ‘I’ve got all my clothes on,’ then blushed at the gaucheness of it.
‘I know. So now I have all the fun of taking them off again.’ Blake ran his tongue over his lips in apparent anticipation.
‘That is… fun?’ It seemed improbable, but his face as he ran his hands up her legs to reach her garters was rapt.
‘More fun when we can undress each other. We could spend hours just doing that, but this morning I do not think I can be quite that slow.’ His fingers tickled while he untied the ribbons and they danced trails of sensation down her calves as he rolled off the stockings. ‘Roll over so I can unfasten your gown.’
Obedient, Emily did as he asked and found herself, moments later, flat on her back again with her stays off too and only her shift between herself and her husband’s gaze.
‘Do you feel embarrassed’ he asked. She shook her head, dubious about just what she did feel. ‘Frightened?’
No. She was certain of that. Emily shook her head again.
‘Shy?’
‘Oh, yes, that is it exactly.’
‘Would it help if I was naked first?’ His hands went to the knot in the sheet around his waist.
‘No!’ It came out as a startled squeak. Emily took a deep breath. ‘It isn’t that I do not want you to make love to me. I do. Very much. I’ve imagined…’ She broke off blushing at the thought of her imaginings. ‘Only… it is all rather a shock.’
‘Ah.’ He watched her, his head on one side as though studying a problem, then reached for one of her stockings. ‘I know. Close your eyes.’ She felt the length of silk slip around her head, shutting out the light. Blake tied it loosely behind her head. ‘There. This is just a dream. Pretend whatever happens is simply your own imagination.’ He chuckled. ‘Now what have you been thinking to make you blush so?’