Mastering The Marquess (Bound and Determined #1)(28)

“And what does this have to do with stables?”

“In the later years of my marriage, when I was left alone, I would sneak down to the stables at night and sing to the horses. They never seemed to mind, although I confess I often brought a couple of ripe apples with me. I am sure some of the groom’s boys knew what I did but they never said anything. I felt so free when I was there.”

Her head joined her hand upon his chest. Normally he hated these moments, saw them as false caring, but this felt quite right. He wrapped his arm about her.

“I’ve never felt free, or ever wanted to,” he replied. “It must sound odd, but my family could be too free, and so all I wanted was order, order and reason. I was probably the only boy who fled to the schoolroom instead of away from it. When I was sent to Eton it felt like being sent to heaven—all those rules and regulations. I knew what I should do and what would happen if I did not. It was wonderful.”

“That was not how my brother described it.” She snuggled even closer, all soft and warm and sweet.

“Your brother went to Eton? When?”

He felt the intake of her breath. Her body pulled away slightly. “No. I didn’t say that. I just meant that he went away to school and most definitely did not find it wonderful.”

He wasn’t sure if he believed her or not, but he was certainly not going to speak in challenge. “Can I ask you something?’ he said, changing the subject. “I fear you may find it a bit embarrassing, but I probably should have spoken before.”

“You can ask me anything,” she answered. “Although I do not promise to answer.”

“Did you talk to Ruby about pregnancy? I would not wish to leave you with child. I should have asked earlier, but I confess you rather distracted me from practical thought. I should probably have asked her myself.”

She turned her face into his chest. Was it possible to feel a blush?

“I’ve just finished my menses, only a day ago. Madame Rouge said this was a safe time, though nothing is ever guaranteed. I did ask. I would not wish to seek a new husband with a babe already in my belly. It would be most dishonest.”

His gut curled at the thought of her finding a husband. He figured it must be because at this moment she was his and his alone. He’d never seen the attraction of virgins, but he had to admit that it filled him with warmth to know he was Grace’s only lover. “Yes, no man would take well to being fooled in such a manner.”

“Madame did say that I could come to her for help if I found myself in such a situation. I would confess I am not sure how she could help me. I can’t imagine she has the contacts to send me away until after the birth.”

Grace would probably be surprised by what contacts Ruby did have, he knew, although he was not sure that was the type of help Ruby had meant. He doubted that many of Ruby’s girls who found they had a bun in the oven ever carried the child to term. But his Grace did not need to know about that. “She was only trying to be helpful.”

“I am sure you are right. She is not at all what I expected a madam to be like.”

“Ruby is always full of surprises and secrets. And I should tell you that should you find yourself in such a situation, send me a note through Ruby. I certainly do have the connections that you would need.”

Grace did not reply, but settled against him, her whole body growing limp—unlike his.

Lying abed with a naked woman cocooned against him was not proving restful.

“Can I tell you something strange?”

He wondered what there was left to say. “Of course.”

“I feel like you are seeing more of me, knowing more of me, than any man ever has—even John. Isn’t that odd, when we’ve worn masks the whole night?”

“Well, I have seen rather a lot of you this night.”

“I don’t mean my body. Be serious.”

Now that sounded like a woman—always wanting a man to be serious. But deep in his heart he did know what she meant. He’d told her more than he’d ever told anyone else, even his own family.

And he wasn’t altogether comfortable with that thought.





Chapter Nine





He hadn’t moved an inch, but Louisa could feel him pull back. What had she said? Or done? She’d been told little enough about sex over the years and nothing about what happened afterward. And yet, their talk had seemed so natural, so easy.

Why had he pulled away?

Perhaps he was tired?

Although that part of him straining against her hip did not seem tired at all. It sometimes jerked with a life of its own. She turned on her side so that it was cradled at the juncture of her thighs.

He did not respond.

Could he be tired of her? She had heard that men grew tired of a woman quickly once the deed was done.

She shifted her head back to her own pillow. He did not stop her.

Their bodies still lay pressed together, but a distinct distance had grown between them.

She closed her eyes and tried to sleep.

It was odd how different darks could be. The blindfold. The dark of the room. The darkness of a closed eye. Each had its own texture. She almost commented upon it, but clearly he was not interested.

How could everything turn about in the fraction of second?

She refused to let it. This was her wedding night and she planned to make the most of it.