Lessons in Pleasure (3 page)
C
HAPTER
3
HAPTER
3
Luncheon had been a miserable affair, though Sarah had tried her best to be bright and lively. Her husband rarely returned home during the day, and on any previous day, she would have been nervously excited at his unexpected appearance. But today, guilt had eaten at her, devouring bits of her slowly. When it had finished its feast, she’d been left hollow, but at least it had been done.
Then she’d remembered that she should be embarrassed as well as guilty. Had he been thinking about the previous night when he’d watched her so closely? She had blushed at the thought, and the burn had stayed through the rest of the meal.
But James had been lovely, as always, trying his best to coax a laugh from her lips. She had laughed for him, and wished she were not such a fraud.
When he’d gone, he hadn’t pressed his customary kiss to her cheek. Instead, he’d kissed her lips, and the taste of his mouth made her heart tumble and fall, made her breath hitch. James’s eyes had widened at that small sound, and he’d stared at her for a long moment before taking his leave.
Pulse thumping at the memory, Sarah pressed her fingertips to her mouth and curled tighter into the chair. Sunlight streamed through the bedroom window, warming the corner where she hid and lighting up the pile of books she’d unwrapped.
Another secret kept from him.
Hand trembling, she reached for the smallest book.
A Physician’s Wisdom Pursuant to the Fruitful Marriage
. Well, she had certainly felt ripe as a peach last night in the dark.
A Physician’s Wisdom Pursuant to the Fruitful Marriage
. Well, she had certainly felt ripe as a peach last night in the dark.
After one last, deep breath, Sarah cracked open the book and began to read.
The first two chapters were so decidedly
un
-scandalous that Sarah actually began to feel sleepy. Complementary temperaments that would make for a good marriage. Physical attributes that might normally be considered attractive to a mate. She would’ve called for tea if the thought of packing up the books and hiding them didn’t seem too tremendous a feat. So she read on, and soon felt her sleepiness dissipate like fog before a hard wind.
un
-scandalous that Sarah actually began to feel sleepy. Complementary temperaments that would make for a good marriage. Physical attributes that might normally be considered attractive to a mate. She would’ve called for tea if the thought of packing up the books and hiding them didn’t seem too tremendous a feat. So she read on, and soon felt her sleepiness dissipate like fog before a hard wind.
Here
. Here was information that would prove useful
.
. Here was information that would prove useful
.
Frequency of marital relations will be determined by the husband’s spirit and humours. The wife should, of course, accommodate the enthusiasm of his masculine needs but should never be bullied or cowed into acquiescence. Despite that her body does not rise in demand as a man’s does, it is not the impassive vessel it seems. Her own seed must be called if the marriage is to result in healthy progeny. Even from the time of Aristotle it has been known that the wife’s womb will not quicken unless she experiences her own feminine climax.
“Climax,” Sarah breathed. At the sound of that word, her body bloomed into chill bumps that tightened her nipples.
Climax.
That seemed exactly what it had been. A culmination of the sensations her husband had encouraged.
Climax.
That seemed exactly what it had been. A culmination of the sensations her husband had encouraged.
Could it be that her fit had been a good thing? She wanted children, badly. Perhaps this was only a harbinger of fertility?
Feeling more hopeful by the moment, Sarah read on, wide-eyed at the information printed on the pages. The author provided fascinating details of pregnancy and childbirth and admonitions against “self-pollution,” whatever that might be. Further assertion that pleasure between a man and his wife was vitally important to the health of both. And, most interesting of all, a
drawing
of how the male and female bodies in their entirety were designed by God himself to complement each other.
drawing
of how the male and female bodies in their entirety were designed by God himself to complement each other.
Sarah studied the picture closely, trying in vain to picture James’s body opposite her own. She could not. She’d tried hard not to glimpse any bits of him that might be . . . frightening. It seemed odd now, that something had been deep inside her own body and she’d never even peeked at it. Surely she should be acquainted with the thing.
The hum that had been slowly building in her body over the past hours began to center itself in a very specific spot. She recognized both the hum and the spot now. After reading such enlightening text, the sensations felt rather friendly instead of frightening.
Perhaps James would touch her again tonight. Perhaps he would stroke her and urge her on.
By the time her maid knocked and asked if she’d like to dress for dinner, Sarah’s skin felt too tight, her clothing too stiff. The idea of putting on a heavier gown for the evening made her cringe, but she rose anyway, carefully repacked the books in their paper, then hid the bundle under the bed.
James would be home soon, and she must be dressed to receive him, whether he stayed for dinner or not.
“Ma’am,” Mary greeted her, already removing a dress from the wardrobe.
Sarah stared at the moss-green cotton that spilled over her maid’s arms. Glancing into the jumble of colors in the wardrobe, she shook her head. “I shall wear the yellow silk tonight.”
Mary only nodded and switched the dresses.
“And my hair . . . perhaps in a fall down my back?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Mary seemed completely unfazed by her mistress’s requests, but Sarah felt so different she wondered that it wasn’t visible. Surely her lips were pinker, her breasts fuller? But if her own maid didn’t notice, likely no one would, perhaps not even James. He might simply come home, relax with a brandy and the newspaper, then head out for an evening at his club. The thought caused a flutter of relief along with mortification.
She could not wait for him to be home. And she was scared half to death.
* * *
The sun was still high in the sky when James found himself mounting his front steps that evening. Not that he could see the sun past the thick clouds that had gathered above London, but the day still felt too bright for the kinds of thoughts crowding his head.
After that disastrous luncheon this afternoon, James had been perfectly sure that he would flee to his club for the evening and avoid the discomfort he’d forced between him and his wife. Sarah simply wasn’t that kind of woman. He’d proved he could coax pleasure from her beautiful body, but in the process, he’d frightened and disturbed her, forced her to a place she did not wish to go. She was a wife, not a doxy.
That had been his thinking all through the meal, while Sarah avoided his eyes and asked pleasant questions.
But then he’d kissed her.
Knowing he should leave it be, he’d still kissed her. And thank God he had.
She’d drawn in a sharp breath just before her lips offered their own fleeting pressure. When he’d looked into her eyes, they’d gone black, dilated with pleasure. Her lips remained slightly parted as if she might welcome another kiss.
After that, James hadn’t known what to think, but he’d come home early with great hopes of puzzling it out.
“Mr. Hood,” Crawford murmured, offering a bow even as he took James’s hat and gloves. “The evening paper awaits you in the library. May I bring a refreshment as well?”
“Ah . . . I’m not sure. Is Mrs. Hood in?”
“I believe she is in her chambers, sir. Shall I send word that you are home?”
James glanced toward the stairs, weighing his options. He thought of that kiss. “Yes, please do. And can Cook have dinner prepared in half an hour?” He hadn’t managed to choke down much of the cold beef on his plate this afternoon.
Waiting in the library, he paced from the window to the fireplace and back again. And again. His heart had broken today when her eyes had filled with tears. The thought that he might have hurt her was almost as bad as on their wedding night, when he’d known he must. He’d had to choke down three fingers of whisky that night before going to her. He was beginning to think he might need the same tonight.
Except that he hadn’t imagined the way she’d responded to him in the dark. Surely he hadn’t. Her whimpers of desire. Her body arching into his,
needing.
needing.
The click of the door latch stopped his pacing. Sarah’s voice stopped his heart.
“James?” she whispered, so tentative.
But when he turned and saw her there, his fears tumbled away like brittle leaves.
* * *
Self-conscious at the intensity of his stare, Sarah smoothed a hand down the side of her gown. His eyes followed, making her anxiety worse.
She looked foolish, wearing a dress more appropriate for a dinner party than an evening at home. Far too much of her bosom was revealed, as if she
wanted
him to stare there. And her hair . . . tumbling down her back like an opera singer’s. She’d thought that putting effort into her appearance would be a subtle way of inviting her husband to seduce her. But now she was too exposed. Stripped of any pretense of innocence in this game.
wanted
him to stare there. And her hair . . . tumbling down her back like an opera singer’s. She’d thought that putting effort into her appearance would be a subtle way of inviting her husband to seduce her. But now she was too exposed. Stripped of any pretense of innocence in this game.
“You are so beautiful,” James said simply. His eyes did not leer; they glowed, and her heart swelled in response.
“Thank you.” Her voice seemed to disappear in the large room, but it did not matter. Her husband was drawing closer.
He whispered her name, touched his hand to her cheek, and when she raised her head to look at him, he kissed her. Her eyelids fluttered closed at the first soft brush of his mouth. Then his tongue grazed her bottom lip and she opened for him, welcomed him into her body. The kiss was soft and slow. Not a promise of more to come, but an act in and of itself. As if they had a lifetime to explore each other’s bodies. And they did.
James broke the kiss first, and she was forced to lean against him for support. “I have been dreaming of kissing you all day,” he murmured.
Sarah tried to hide her pride. “But we only just kissed a few hours ago.”
“Yes. And however short a time before we kiss again tonight, I’m certain it will feel an eternity. Men are quite cursed. When a man desires a certain woman, he can think of little else.”
She blushed and put a little distance between them, unable to flirt and look him in the face at the same time. “Mm? And what of women?” From the corner of her eye, she watched him follow her progress as she strolled from the doorway toward the window.
“I’m not sure,” he finally answered. “Have you ever found yourself consumed with thoughts of kisses?”
Sarah curled her fingers into the drapery and squeezed hard to push some courage into her veins. The curtain rod gave a small creak, so she forced herself to loosen her hold. Then she took a deep breath and turned toward her husband, though she couldn’t manage to raise her gaze from the carpet. “Yes,” she admitted to the reds and golds of the Oriental tapestry, “even more than kisses . . . sometimes.”
They both held their breath after that. Only the ticking of the clock, suddenly loud, pierced the silence for a few torturous moments. Her heart struggled in desperate panic.
James finally inhaled, then breathed out one soft word. “More?”
She’d forced out all the bold talk she could, so Sarah only nodded.
“I was afraid . . .” he started, then shook his head. “I was afraid I had frightened you.”
That made her smile, and she managed to glance up for a brief moment. “I was afraid
I
had frightened
you
.”
I
had frightened
you
.”
The unbearable tension broke on the wave of his laughter. “Never think that. You please me to no end, my love.”
“Will you . . . ?” She cleared her throat. “Will you stay for dinner, then?”
His smile changed subtly, shifting from amusement to satisfaction. “Yes.” His eyes drifted down her yellow gown. “I had no plans to go anywhere at all.” Then he met her gaze.
Oh, mercy.
Now James was changed, too. A different creature than when he’d first returned from work. Instead of joviality, his green eyes glinted something dangerous. His jaw was harder, etched from a material more ruthless than flesh.
Now James was changed, too. A different creature than when he’d first returned from work. Instead of joviality, his green eyes glinted something dangerous. His jaw was harder, etched from a material more ruthless than flesh.
The new mood in the room reminded her of the countryside in the fall, when buck deer would suddenly transform from gentle, pretty animals to fierce creatures bunched with muscle. The males wanted something, and they seemed mad with that want. But the doe responded, just as Sarah was responding to her husband’s possessive gaze.
It was frightening to be wanted so. Frightening and stunningly exciting.
When he stepped toward her, Sarah tensed with the impulse to flee. She was too new to this to respond any other way, regardless of her intentions. But a shadow fell into the room, and Crawford bowed from the doorway. “Sir, madam, if it pleases you, dinner will be served when you are seated.”
James stared at her a moment longer, but when he blinked, the spell was broken. “Madam,” he said, offering a little bow before he held out his arm.
The imagined danger had passed and, with a sigh of mild relief, Sarah went to him and took his arm. The simple touch made her burn.
* * *
My wife thinks of more than kissing.
James clutched his glass of port and stared daggers at the library clock.
My wife,
he repeated to himself,
thinks of
more.
he repeated to himself,
thinks of
more.
When this change had started, he had no idea. Had there been new signs of passion he’d missed? Was it only that she’d begun to trust him? Perhaps it simply took time for a restrained gentlewoman like Sarah to become accustomed to a man’s touch. Whatever the reason, he could think of nothing else now.
The second hand of the clock had become weighted down, too heavy to keep the right time, he was sure of it. According to that blasted clock, Sarah had excused herself only five minutes before to prepare for bed.
Dinner had been enjoyable, despite the fact that James had been in a painful state for most of it. And at the end, Sarah had stood, hands still clutching her serviette, and announced that she was quite worn out. “I must call Mary to help me ready for bed. Please enjoy your port.” She’d practically run from the room, and left James standing there alone, still caught up in the lovely memory of the pale rise of her breasts above the neckline of her gown.
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