When Strangers Marry (Vallerands #1)(34)

Her face was vivid red as she glanced at him.

“You’re very beautiful,” Max said, his voice hoarse.

Lysette knew that she was hardly a raving beauty, but the way he stared at her left no doubt as to his opinion to the contrary. And she was certainly not going to argue. “Merci,” she murmured. Cautiously she came to the bed and stood beside him, raising her brows expectantly. “Well? Is my version of the marital relationship accurate, or do you wish to modify it?”

Max gestured for her to come to him. Extending one hand, he tugged her up onto the mattress, where she settled with her legs partially curled beneath her.

“There are a few things I want to clarify,” he said, lifting a hand to her hair. His fingers smoothed over the ruddy curls and found the pins that anchored her coiffure. With great care, he took down her hair and sifted through the wild mass. She could not suppress the quiver of pure bliss that went down the back of her neck. The tiny aches where the pins had pulled her hair dissolved in a tingle of comfort.

“First,” Max said, “it is not a obligation that can only be avoided in the case of illness or monthly courses. You may refuse me at any time, without having to give a reason. Your body is your own, to be shared or withheld at your discretion. I wouldn’t find it pleasurable to force myself on an unwilling partner— which leads to a second point. There are things a man can do to make the sexual act pleasant for his partner. It doesn’t have to be uncomfortable, after the first time.”

Lysette was very still, lulled by his stroking hands in her hair. “Max…” Heat blazed over her face, and she felt suffocated by embarrassment. “When we were kissing the other day… I felt you… that is, I felt your… and I don’t think…”

“Yes?” he prompted huskily at her mortified silence.

“There is no possible way that you could make it comfortable,” she blurted out.

To her everlasting gratitude, he did not laugh, but replied in a serious manner. “Lysette.” He nuzzled the top of her head and worked his way down to her ear. She felt his lips brush the tender lobe. “I think your body will learn to accommodate me,” he whispered. “Trust me about that, d’accord?“

“All right.”

To her surprise, he left the bed. “I have to leave you now, petite.”

“But I still have some questions.”

“Unfortunately, there are limits to my self-control.” His hand descended to her bare ankle and squeezed gently. “Let me go, Lysette, so that I can keep my promise not to ravish you. We’ll talk more later, I promise.”

“Can’t you stay just a little longer?” she asked, reaching out to touch his chest. She felt the play of muscles underneath his shirt, their tension betraying the desire he kept so sternly in check. The soft light of the veilleuses, the little lamps on the dresser and bedside table, flirted gently over the firm edges of his cheekbone and jaw.

Wincing visibly, Max removed her hand from his chest. “Not if you wish to remain a virgin tonight,” he said gruffly.

Suddenly Lysette was tempted to invite him to stay. However, she could not allow a single impulsive moment to interfere with her resolve. She could only allow him to make love to her when she was certain that he was truly in love with her… or at least that he felt something very close to it. And at the moment she knew that the attraction and liking between them had not yet matured into the deeper emotion that could only come with time.

“Then good night,” she said, and leaned forward to brush a quick kiss against his mouth.

Max shook his head ruefully. “You don’t make it easy to be trustworthy, chérie. You’re far too tempting, and I’m not accustomed to denying myself something I want.”

He picked up his coat, shrugged into it, and went to the door.

“Max?” Lysette was perturbed by his actions. He would not have put his coat on unless he was planning to go downstairs. But surely he would not return to mingle with the guests— that would be the height of bad taste. Was it possible that he intended to leave the plantation?

He paused and glanced over his shoulder. “Yes?”

“Are you going out this evening?”

A brief but maddening smile touched his lips, as if he knew exactly what she feared— that he might satisfy his desires with his placée tonight, since his wife was not available to him.

“Someday, ma petite, my whereabouts at night will be entirely your concern.” He added with wicked gleam in his eyes, “But not yet.”

And with that he left, closing the door gently behind him.

Lysette glared after him, aware for the first time in her life of the acrid taste of jealousy.

———

Max paused outside the bedroom door, finding it difficult to leave Lysette when every impulse demanded that he return to her. Without conceit, he knew that he had the ability to persuade her to yield to him, and that she would enjoy it as much as he did. However, her trust was too important for him to risk. He would wait as long as she wanted him to, though it was going to be difficult.

Had he wanted Corinne like this? The recollection of his first night with her was little more than a blur, but he did remember that Corinne— the first and only virgin he had ever bedded— had regarded him with resentment and reproach forever afterward. In spite of his efforts to be gentle, it had been a painful and mortifying experience for her. Corinne had been raised to dread any kind of intimacy with her husband, just as Max had been brought up to think that love for a wife was entirely different than love for a mistress.