“We are well and truly wed now,” he said.
Jane turned her head into his shoulder. “Yes. It feels as if we are. I thought I would be shy when we had these sorts of relations, but there was no reason.”
“You were not shy at all. It went exceedingly well for our first time.”
“There will be more times, yes?”
He laughed and raised himself on one elbow so he could lean down and kiss her. By the time he finished his kisses, she was grasping his shoulders, not wishing them to end.
“There will certainly be more times, my enthusiastic minx,” he said as they parted. “But we mustn’t go too hard, too fast. You’ll be tender from this first time.”
She felt a flush rise in her cheeks. It wasn’t polite for a woman to be lusty, was it? It was only that it had felt so good to couple with her husband. She reached out for him in a sudden burst of contentment and happiness.
“I’m so happy we’re married. I’m so happy to be married to you, Edward. I feel lucky as can be.”
She thought he might return the sentiment, and agree he also felt lucky, but instead he chuckled.
“Goodness, Jane, don’t you know that ardor within marriage isn’t the thing anymore?”
“What? What do you mean?”
“It’s considered gauche for husbands and wives to fawn over one another. And love is out of the question, fully out of vogue.”
She stared at him, shocked, and was relieved to realize he teased her. Or did he?
“Your parents are in love,” she said. “And my sister and Lord Braxton. Even my parents have a loving marriage, for the most part.”
“They’re all hopelessly out of style, aren’t they?” His fingers fluttered in hers. “At the most stylish balls, married couples don’t dance together, stand together, or share more than a handful of words. They dance and flirt with others.”
“I don’t want to do that,” she protested, then felt sheepish. Her voice had been too loud in the quiet room. “I mean, I want to dance with you at balls in the spring. I shall be so proud to have you for a husband.”
He kissed her forehead, then soothed her with a finger traced along her cheek. “Dear Jane, we shall dance together if you wish. Don’t be upset, love.”
“I’m not.” But she was, a little. She could not read his manner, his expressions. For all the pleasure they’d just shared, there was something he held back from her, some coolness or mystery. “Do you love me?” she asked. “I mean, now that we’re married and bedded? You just called me ‘love.’”
Again, she wished for an unambiguous answer, an enthusiastic yes that he loved her, out of politeness if nothing else, but instead she got hesitation and a lack of eye contact on his part.
“Well, we’re still coming to know one another better, aren’t we? We can’t yet claim a deep, poetic love. But I care for you as my wife, as a proper husband should.”
It was not a satisfying answer, especially as he rolled onto his back, away from her.
“You ought to sleep,” he said, stretching his arms above him in the manner of a satisfied cat. “I should go to my own room so you can perform your toilette.”
“You needn’t go.” His body was so beautiful, so strong and warm. She hated for him to leave. “Will you come back and sleep beside me?”
“Of course I will, if you wish.”
She suspected he was only agreeing to it for her sake, but she was not strong enough to say, “that’s all right, never mind.” Tonight, at least, she needed him close, for their bodies had been so intimately joined. She wanted him to hold her in his powerful, comforting embrace, and when he returned, he did. She’d put her nightgown back on for modesty’s sake, but he doffed his robe before he joined her in bed, so her wispy gown was the only thing between their bodies.
As they drowsed so close together, she wondered at the scent of him and the way his limbs felt against hers, at least until she got too tired to concentrate anymore. She wished to know him so well. How marvelous it felt to be falling in love with the man she’d married.
She finally drifted to sleep listening to his steady breath and thinking how infinitely lucky she was.
Chapter Eight
Lessons
Their winter honeymoon continued through cold and snow flurries, with their bed a warm, welcoming place for both of them. His wife’s enthusiasm for coupling was a delightful feature in their accidental union.
Within a fortnight, Townsend had taught her to locate her body’s particular sources of pleasure—as well as his. He taught her to lick and caress his cock, and to fellate him as she faced him on all fours. This enticing stance of hers was still the only position they used. He would teach her other positions…someday. For now, coupling with Jane was almost like coupling with the earthy courtesans at Pearl’s.