He went still, then pulled backed reluctantly. “As you wish, darling…but I give you fair warning. Every time you call me by my title, I will kiss you again.”
To her surprise, Traherne—Quinn—resumed his position on the grass, as if nothing extraordinary had happened between them.
Venetia lifted a shaky hand to her mouth, still feeling her heart slamming against her ribs, and wondered why he was able to reduce her to such raw need with his shamefully practiced kisses.
The bulge in his breeches, however, suggested she had affected him nearly as much as he had her. And when he spoke, his voice remained husky and low. “Perhaps it’s time to discuss the state of our marriage.”
Thrown off guard by the sudden choice of topic, Venetia gazed at him with wary curiosity. “What is there to discuss?”
“Might I remind you that there is nothing wrong with enjoying each other now that we are wed?”
Comprehending his meaning, she sucked in an uneven breath. “You know how I feel about consummating our union.”
“True, but you ought to reconsider. There is no reason for us to endure sexual pain.”
“What…exactly are you proposing?”
“A modern marriage, of sorts. We can indulge our cravings and explore the pleasures of the marital bed without further obligations or entanglements.”
“You mean purely carnal relations.”
His eyes held hers, no longer flirtatious, just unsettlingly candid. “Precisely. It needn’t be complicated. Pleasure only, nothing deeper. We both want each other. We have since the first time we kissed at Tavistock’s.”
Her arrested expression turned flustered. “You are surely overstating the impact.”
“Not in my case. Kissing you was like being struck by a lightning bolt.”
She stared in disbelief. Certainly she had experienced that staggering, electric feeling at the first touch of his mouth, but she couldn’t credit that he had felt similarly. “I very much doubt you felt lightning bolts.”
“It is the honest truth. It surprised the devil out of me.”
When she shook her head, Quinn went on. “Think about it. We could have the ideal arrangement. We each cherish our freedom—you perhaps even more than I. Once we ferret out the assassin and it is safe, you can return to France as we agreed.”
At her hesitation, he added to his rational argument. “Simply because Ackland betrayed you is not ample reason to deny yourself fulfillment.”
“It is not only that….”
“I understand. You don’t want to be wed to a brute. But I am hardly like your friend Cleo’s late husband. The fact that her marriage was so miserable is regrettable, but most marriages are not like hers.”
“I am astonished that a consummate rake would defend the institution of marriage,” she remarked archly.
“As am I.” A dry smile hovered on his lips. “But we are married for better or worse, so we might as well make it for the better.” At her cautious look, his tone changed to gentle reassurance. “Never fear, angel. I have hopes of convincing you one of these days, but as I told you, the choice to become lovers must be yours.”
A telltale quiver shivered through Venetia. The truth was, she was supremely tempted by his offer. She wanted to know what Quinn’s lovemaking would be like. She wanted to explore her feminine longings, to satisfy her yearning for his tender touch. Most of all she wanted an end to the loneliness.
She didn’t want to be a barren virgin for the rest of her life, yet that would likely be her future unless she embraced his proposal. Now that she was Traherne’s—Quinn’s—wife, she could never, ever consider taking any other man for a lover.
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Those seditious thoughts and more flashed through her mind momentarily, but Venetia put off answering and began packing up the remains of their lunch. “I believe I will return to the cottage. Will you come with me?”
“Not just yet. I mean to remain here and take a nap. It is exhausting work seducing nubile damsels who refuse to be seduced.”
She couldn’t help smiling, but as she left her thoughts were preoccupied by his proposition. Once the idea was planted in her mind, it was difficult to dismiss.
Over the following week, she couldn’t help listening to the traitorous voice inside her head: What would be the harm in taking solace from her husband sexually, for their mutual pleasure?
When he’d originally promised a marriage in name only, she had expected—hoped—that physical relations would play no role in their marriage. Clearly her notion was a pipe dream with a man as sensual and physical as Traherne…Quinn.