A Match Made in Bed (Spinster Heiresses #2)(41)

He stirred. Of course he did. What man could resist her?

Still, he had to think of what was best for his wife. He caught her wandering hand before she could stray too far. “I’ve worked you out enough for the first night. I don’t want you to be sore on the morrow.”

Her nose scrunched adorably at the idea. “I can be sore down there?”

She had so much to learn. He could not wait to teach her.

Reluctantly, he eased out from under her body and climbed out of the bed.

“Where are you going?” She moved as if to follow him.

“Rest right there. I’ll be right back.” His movements had shifted the counterpane. He tossed his share over her. “I need to take care of you.”

“You can take care of me right here.” She pouted, patting the mattress beside her. “I can see you want to.”

He did. This part of his anatomy had always had a mind of its own. “Cass, you’ve grown bold.”

“I’m receiving lessons in bold. But you aren’t paying attention.”

“Oh, I am paying attention, as you noticed. It is hard to be a man. I couldn’t fake it even if I wished. However, you come first.” He walked to the washstand. The water was cool but it would do. He poured it into a basin.

“I like looking at you naked,” she announced, sounding almost defiant. And then she added, a touch shyly, “I liked it the other night as well.”

“Then I will never wear clothes for you.” He returned to the bed holding the basin of water and a linen cloth.

“Promise?”

Her coy response delighted him. “I promise, but I do think I will have some difficulty when I attend Parliament. They have a strict idea of how a lord should dress.” He knelt by the bed on her side, setting the basin on the mattress.

“Pity,” she said.

“Yes,” he agreed, and in the next beat, the two of them were grinning like fools at each other.

Her hand reached out to lace her fingers with his. “I’m glad I married you.”

“Because of what I can do for you on a bed?” He was only half teasing. Cass’s openness touched him. In a world swimming in chicanery, she had survived fresh and unsullied. Even with who her father was.

“I would have been miserable,” she continued, “living as an unmarried relation with Helen and her daughters. I’ve always hated their pity.”

“Why would they pity you?”

“I don’t know.” Her easiness gave way to the sort of deep reflection he knew of her. “Sometimes I was jealous of them because they knew their mother and I had lost mine. I often believed they resented my inheritance. They would always refer to me as ‘the heiress’ in a tone of voice that was not flattering. A portion of my inheritance was given to them for dowries. I did not mind, but still they were rather cold. This will sound odd, but I used to sense that I was surrounded by secrets. Did you ever feel that way?”

“No, I knew all the secrets. My grandfather lost money, my father lost money, I’m trying not to lose money. It is all right there.”

That wasn’t truly the complete truth. He did need to tell her about his son and his first marriage, but now was not the time.

Her expressive eyes became solemn. “Am I putting too much faith in a kiss? You must tell me, Soren. I don’t have very much experience, especially in these matters.”

He raised her hand to his lips and kissed the backs of her fingers. His gaze holding hers, he said, “Trust our kisses. They never lie.”

Her smile was as if the heavens had opened and blessed them—and he knew she would make everything wrong in his life, right again.

“Why did you bring the water over?”

“For you.” He pushed back the counterpane. He gently began wiping the signs of their lovemaking, of her virginity from her thighs.

She tried to close her legs, squirming away from him, even as she reached for the cloth. “I can do that.”

He waved her away. “This is no chore. I’m here to take care of you. As time goes by, we’ll know each other’s bodies better than we do our own.”

Or at least that was his intention. It had not happened with his first marriage. When Mary left him, he’d felt as if he’d never known her at all.

But this time it would be different. He and Cass shared a common heritage. And he’d do all he could to keep her happy. He’d been too young and anxious to make his fortune in his first marriage to realize that his wife must come first.

Cass held still.

His task finished, he folded the cloth and carried it and the washbasin back to the stand and then returned to bed. He pulled the covers down so they could both slip under the sheets. She nestled up to him. It was a good moment. He decided now was the time to tell her about Logan.

However, before he could speak, she said, “The other night when I saw Letty Bainhurst and the duke in the reading room, they weren’t doing what we just did.”

“They weren’t?”

“No, the duke was down around her knees.”

That comment caught his interest.

She leaned on one arm to look at him. “He was beneath her skirts. Whatever he was doing, she liked very much.” There was more than a hint of suggestion in her voice.

Ah, Camberly. “And you are curious as to what was happening?” Soren suggested.