An Affair of Honor (Rebel Hearts Book 2) (13 page)

He appeared every inch the aristocrat. A man she’d been in awe of when they first met and to a degree still was.

“Mrs. Ford, do you dance?”

“Yes,” she murmured. “But not since I was a girl. I will probably bruise your feet with my stumbling.”

He held out his hand despite her warning. Matilda stared at him a moment, then placed her hand in his. He drew her close, and for a change he held her fingers rather than her wrist. It felt odd, almost too intimate to stand so close in his grasp, especially in this room.

“There is no music,” she said, fighting a blush that threatened to consume her.

He shrugged away the problem. “Do you waltz?” His question was soft, almost breathless.

She shivered, catching a glimpse of eagerness in his gaze she was not used to seeing. “Not at all.”

“That is unfortunate, for I am fond of it.” He drew one of her hands to his shoulder and then settled his fingers at her waist. He slowly slid his hand around her body until he covered the fastenings of her gown.

She struggled to breathe as he drew her closer still. Her face was burning up with embarrassment. He was her husband. There was nothing to stop him touching her, no chaperones, no family, and no excuses not to hold her as close as he wanted.

He tapped his fingers over the knotted bow at her back, and she glanced up quickly, afraid he’d undo the bow.

His eyes were wide, growing dark and deep with an emotion she couldn’t name but had glimpsed before. He swallowed and then turned his face so his scar was hidden from view. “I will have to instruct you soon so we might dance together in public.”

Matilda nodded but her heart raced. That look in his eyes unsettled her. This husband of hers, a man so worldly-wise, knew things she did not. She had seen enough of his nature to conclude he had experienced other women, and now, bargain or not, according to the vows she’d spoken, she’d agreed to obey him in everything.

Her legs trembled at what he might ask for.

He lifted his chin toward the staircase as he released her. “It has been a long day. I want you to go upstairs and get into my bed.”

Her heart hammered against her ribs in panic. “But I thought I was to stay in the guest bedroom.”

“You are my wife now. It is expected that you spend some nights in my bed. Especially tonight.”

Matilda swallowed her fear. She’d been trying not to think about tonight and what would happen when they were alone. Captain Ford had said nothing about wishing for intimacy between them, but it was his right as her husband to take his pleasure with her. “Yes, Captain.”

“William.” He nodded and took another step back.

“William.” Matilda dipped a curtsy and then fled to his bedchamber.

In something close to blind panic, she rushed through undressing and redressing into a modest nightgown that had been laid out on the bed. The new, soft garment covered her from neck to toes, but she felt exposed and altogether naked by changing in this room. She scurried into his bed. Glanced around swiftly, then darted back out again to the candle and blew it out before scrambling under the covers once more, heart thundering.

She lay still, clutching the sheet to her chin as William’s footsteps echoed in the adjoining dressing room. He was not alone; his voice was a soft murmur as he spoke with another man, most likely Dawson as he readied for bed. She blushed thinking of him removing his elegant attire, stripping down to even less than when he’d been abed during his recovery.

She lifted her head to peek over her toes as a door closed, but it was not her door. The faint outline of light under the bedchamber’s heavy oak door flickered, and then darkness fell in the adjoining room. She could not hear William moving about anymore, but surely he was coming in?

After a few minutes of silence, she sat up in consternation.

She couldn’t hear anything beyond her own frantic breathing.

Matilda took a steadying breath, reassured but confused since she could hear no sign of her husband moving about.

Her
husband.

When it became apparent William wasn’t coming tonight, Matilda lowered herself to the bedding and glanced dispiritedly around the dark room. This was her wedding night. The night she’d expected to give her virtue to Harry Lloyd.

In his place, William had the right to sleep with her.

She swallowed as new tears filled her eyes. He would come to her soon and then… She had no idea.

It might be true she’d done very well for herself in marrying Captain Ford, but she was quite terrified now. His family was one of the most distinguished in society, accepted anywhere they wanted to go. The man was wealthy, and so far he’d not stinted her any comfort. The terms of the marriage contract had been very generous indeed. He’d brought a legal man into his home to study and explain to her the document he’d drafted, explaining what her portion would be upon his eventual demise, as if there was not going to be a separation between before then. It had been rather strange to think of the moment of William’s death again, which was surely far removed now that he was out of harm’s way.

She would be well supported, financially, for the rest of her life. They had not discussed their eventual separation in any detail, but William had promised they would as soon as his sisters had found husbands.

But he was a stranger. Her husband.

It was a great step up for the daughter of a medical man and the wild gypsy he’d married out of lust and been deserted by as soon as Matilda had been born.

This was not the future she’d expected to have. It wasn’t bad, but a life without love wasn’t at all unfamiliar. She’d never known a love beyond her father’s infrequent affection. Even the memory of Harry’s regard was a distant and fleeting memory. She didn’t know how to react to William and his occasional kindness.

It took a long time to fall asleep that night, and when she did wake at the usual hour the household came to life, she was still in bed and still alone.

Nine

M
atilda was a deep sleeper. She slept curled on her side, her long dark lashes fanned over her olive cheeks, her slender arms stretched out but kept modestly covered by the bedding. She looked striking in his bed. So innocent and tranquil. The perfect relief for his darkness. He would love nothing more than to wake her from her slumber with his touch, to draw the bedding back and make love to her for the whole of the day.

He wanted to explore every curve of her body usually hidden by her gowns. Touch and be touched as if their marriage was real.

Instead, William remained seated on a straight-backed chair, his hands clenched tightly on his thighs.

Being married to the woman was proving difficult. It had only been a week since they’d spoken their vows, and the urge to control her, urges that plagued his every thought every day of this marriage, were becoming difficult to placate. He was grateful that society did not expect newlyweds to socialize very much in the early days of their marriage and their invitations so far had been few. Matilda had needed this time to accept her elevation from maid to lady. And for himself, he struggled to understand the intense relief and contentment he felt every time she drew near.

He was married. His bachelor days were behind him. He’d expected to eventually resent his grandfather’s interference.

But he did not.

Matilda sat up suddenly. “Oh,” she whispered as she spotted him sitting beside the bed.

William got to his feet slowly and approached her. “Matilda.”

She pulled the sheet up farther to cover her chest the closer he came. “Captain.”

How long might it take her to grow accustomed to him? He hoped sooner rather than later. “I answer to William when we are alone.”

She licked her lips nervously and glanced around as if seeking escape or her robe. He’d taken her robe away while she slept, tossing it back into the dressing room where all unworn clothing belonged.

“Yes, William.” Her grip on the sheet tightened.

“Time to get up,” he told her, casting a glance at the windows where the light of midmorning shone through the gaps.

Matilda usually wept in the mornings, he’d heard her several times and had allowed the behavior, but as he’d waited for her to wake that day he had decided enough was enough. He couldn’t bear her sadness over Harry Lloyd, a liar and scoundrel, for one more day. She deserved a better man to look after her.

He meant to be the man she turned to in future.

Lloyd could never spoil her as he was doing; even if their marriage was temporary, she was better off with him. Better for Matilda to believe the man dead than discover the truth of his character and be disappointed.

“Come.” He held out one hand to her, a test of her trust.

When she placed her fingers over his, he assisted her out of bed, receiving a lovely flash of slender leg for his viewing pleasure, and lured her into the dressing room while she wore nothing but her nightgown. The fire was burning, pleasantly warm, and tea, cheese and bread to toast, enough for two, had been brought up at his request.

He placed her in the center of the room and surveyed her. She had the makings of a perfect wife for him. Beautiful, clever but modest. However, modesty was only preferred outside their private rooms.

“I am going to take off your nightgown,” he warned her.

She sucked in a sharp breath, eyes widening. “That is indecent.”

“We are man and wife.” He met her gaze directly. “You must grow accustomed to obeying me. Turn and face the mirror.”

She swallowed, and then her chin lifted. “So you can spank me like last time?”

He admired her defiance, even if it was misplaced. “Perhaps if you are very lucky I will.”

He smiled at her shocked expression. He drew closer, reaching for her gown to lift it over her head. He did not intend to touch her intimately, but he would know her as much as his conscience allowed. A glimpse of her nakedness would go a long way to satisfying his hunger to understand her better. He waited for her decision. “Well?”

She seemed torn but eventually nodded.

His hands trembled a little as he lifted her gown. She had lovely, slender legs, and his heart raced as he moved the garment higher. The spanking last year had only revealed so much, and he devoured her with his eyes now.

Her gently curved back was a work of art, long and delicately muscled, no doubt from her recent years of service. Matilda was exquisite, beyond anything he’d imagined. He glanced at her face to convey his appreciation but discovered she’d closed her eyes. A pity she could not revel in their first truly intimate moment together as he was doing.

Her skin was golden, even beneath her clothing where he’d imagined her paler. The shade hinted at foreign ancestry he couldn’t place. Her breasts were small and tipped with plum-colored nipples. Her waist was tiny and flared to generous hips, and at the apex of her thighs a nest of dark curls covered her sex. Her bottom, as he remembered fondly, was round and full. Perfect for his hand.

“Tell me about your mother.”

Her lashes fluttered and she met his gaze. “My mother?”

He smiled as her cheeks reddened with a blush. She blushed so frequently around him that he often wondered at the direction of her thoughts. Was she wicked of thought under her proper facade? “You’ve only spoken of your father and his career.”

“I, um.” Her long lashes fluttered again, not a coquettish flirtation but actual distress. Her hands twitched to cover her breasts and lower.

“Don’t do that.” William gently returned her hands to her sides. “Please continue.”

“I never knew her. She died when I was very young.”

“So did mine. I was barely six years old when Mama passed away. I remember her hands were gentle, but no more than that.” When Matilda failed to share her own confidences about her mother after a lengthy interval of silence, he concluded her late mother was something of a delicate subject or utterly unknown to her. He let the matter drop, not wishing to spoil the morning with unpleasant remembrances. She would speak of her mother eventually if she knew anything at all about the woman.

He circled behind her as she shivered. “You are so beautiful.”

There was a very long pause before she found her voice. “Thank you.”

He smacked her left buttock once, gratified by her shocked gasp. His fingertips tingled from where they’d touched her, and he rubbed them together, savoring the sensation. “Next time, don’t hesitate to answer me.”

“Yes, Captain.”

He took a stance behind her, admiring the slight reddening of her skin from his slap. “Three more for not using my given name in private as I have asked you to do,” he whispered.

Matilda gasped each time he flicked his hand out to administer a gentle discipline appropriate for her lapse, but only swayed a little. Four was enough to begin a day with. Too many and she might be overcome with fear as she had been on their wedding night when he’d suggested she share his bed. He needed her to understand that her virtue was safe with him and punishments were not lasting.

William moved to the chaise where he’d been sleeping this past week and lifted a fine and very sheer chemise that he’d chosen from the Cabot’s Haberdashery shelves. He carefully slid the garment over Matilda’s head, lifting her hair out of the way gently, and then found a cotton-and-whalebone corset to bind around her chest. He tightened the laces firmly, then had her sit on the edge of the chaise. She bounced up a little as the firm surface pressed against her tender bottom.