Lord Garson’s Bride (Dashing Widows 7) - Page 23

Her lips tightened. “Sarcasm isn’t helpful.”

“No, it’s not,” he said grimly. “I’ll feel let down if my wife takes no pleasure in what I do to her. Do you loathe my touch so much?”

“No,” she said aghast, before she could stop herself. “It’s just…”

Watching her handsome husband when he spoke of such private matters did strange things to her insides. That heavy, dark gaze set up a quiver in her stomach that reminded her of how she’d felt lost in his kisses.

Hugh sighed and ran his hand through his thick hair. More than ever, he looked like a sulky deity. “You’re not yet accustomed to the idea of being my wife.”

“I thought I was.” Jane looked down to where her hands pleated the sheets. The sight of her wedding ring still caught her by surprise. “You’ve made a bad bargain.”

“I

wouldn’t say that,” he murmured. “But I was unfair, expecting you to make the transition from nurse to wife, without time to adjust to your new life.”

“I’m willing to do my part,” she said shakily. “Perhaps this time, it would be better if you didn’t kiss me.”

However mad it seemed, the thought of that vigorous male body pumping into her wasn’t nearly so scary as his kisses.

“If you’re sure,” he said, sounding unconvinced. She couldn’t blame him. No doubt other ladies clamored for his attentions. The thought of those other ladies added a dollop of jealousy to her stew of emotions. Which was a disaster and showed just how dangerous Hugh’s kisses were.

Because he was in love with another woman and always would be. If she let that unarguable fact set its claws into her, life would become a nightmare. She couldn’t risk developing any possessive feelings about her husband.

“And maybe…maybe you should blow out the candles.”

His eyes narrowed on her, as if she posed a logistical problem that he meant to solve. She supposed she must. This turmoil had caught them both unprepared. After all, they’d entered this marriage with the same businesslike approach she’d use to buy a new cow.

Except in this particular deal, she was the cow.

That pragmatism had misled her into thinking that everything between them would be matter-of-fact. Her innocence had betrayed her. Apparently it was difficult to share a man’s bed, without crossing the line between friendship and a relationship impossible to define, but more disturbing than she’d ever imagined.

“I don’t want shame to contaminate what we do together,” he said.

Shame? Was that what she felt? Jane didn’t think so. What he’d done had felt outlandish, but she hadn’t been disgusted. Even when he’d pushed his tongue into her mouth.

No, it had been exciting. Too exciting.

Instinct insisted that she had to maintain some distance from her husband. When Hugh’s mouth claimed hers, that became impossible. “I think if I can’t see you, it will help,” she said, hating the squeak in her voice. “Just this time.”

“Don’t you find me attractive?” he asked, and she cringed at her tactlessness. What could she say? Any woman would find him attractive, but every ounce of her Norris pride revolted at the idea of yearning after a man who didn’t want her.

“You’re my husband,” she said shakily, and she knew they both noted how she’d evaded his question.

“I am indeed.” The sternness returned to his voice.

Hugh left the bed and stalked about the room, blowing out the candles, until only the glow of the fire remained. Jane gulped and told herself she’d only sound more of a fool than she did already if she asked him to bank it. The night was cold, and the big room needed heating.

There was enough light to reveal the offended set of his shoulders and the annoyed briskness of his hands when he tugged at the sash holding his dressing gown closed. Trepidation jammed in her throat, as she waited for him to remove the robe.

He sent her a glance, unreadable in the shadows, but she guessed it was impatient. The dressing gown remained in place, although hanging loose, it hinted at the mysteries beneath in a way that fed both her nerves and her curiosity.

Despite the chill in the air, she flung aside the blankets and lay back. But even as she fortified her courage, she couldn’t help the catch of her breath when he stood beside the bed.

His body blocked the firelight, so she couldn’t see much more than a big, dark outline. She’d hoped to feel braver if she wasn’t watching his every move. It hadn’t worked out that way.

“Spread out like a proper little virgin sacrifice,” he said flatly.

She didn’t try to hide her wince. “You said you wanted to do this.”

Tags: Anna Campbell Dashing Widows Romance
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