She had never imagined that such pleasure could be found within an act that so many women disparaged their husbands seeking out so often. There’d been so very little thatshe was allowed to hear, as an unmarried woman, in the first place. But surely the act they all dreaded so openly had to be something different.
She couldn’t imagine wishing him not to come to her bed and desire those things of her.
His hands … his lips … Her face flushed even darker at her thoughts, her lips twitching as she spared herself one last, long evaluation.
She expected to look different.
She certainly felt different.
More of a woman. Less of a girl.
It was as if when he had been inside of her, he had reached within her and removed those last vestiges of her girlhood. Like he had taken every insecurity and worry and twisted them up into his fist to do away with.
She felt… special. Treasured. Wanted.
No matter how depraved some of those acts had been, she had felt respected throughout the whole of it.
And it made her love him more for it.
God, she loved him.
She had tried so hard to avoid that word. Tried so hard to ignore those blooming feelings.
But she could no longer do so. And she did. She loved him.
Her laugh was wry as she finally broke away from the mirror and headed for the door, the early morning sunlight streaming through the hall as she stepped out into it.
She needed to move.
Every muscle in her body felt cramped and sore. Like she had been laying for too many days abed … or maybe like she had been doing the opposite and expending too much energy. She didn’t know. It was a strange feeling that sat within her, a strange soreness. But she enjoyed it.
That physical reminder of the care he had given her the night before.
Each pull of her muscles reminded her of his body over hers, his lips against her skin and–
“Lord,” she muttered, laughing at herself and how quickly carried away she was becoming.
“Lady Josephine?”
Josephine almost jumped out of her skin as one of Henry’s maids appeared seemingly from the walls, her face a mask of indifference … and her eyes brimming with a million questions Josephine knew she’d be too well-trained to ask. But Josephine’s mind could conjure what they were all the same.
And she blushed all the harder for it.
“I was just thinking aloud,” Josephine murmured quickly, her heart hammering in her throat as she willed her face to lose some of its heat. “Don’t mind me. I only meant to take a turn in the gardens before breakfast.”
“I’d be happy to walk with you, My Lady. Or perhaps go and fetch someone? Your mother? His Grace?”
Oh, mercy.
The two names mentioned brought even more heat to her face for entirely separate reasons.
Her mother! Lord, why hadn’t she thought about her mother knowing simply upon catching sight of her before that moment? Surely she would.
And the duke …
“Oh no, please do not trouble anyone else.” Josephine almost tripped over her words in her haste to dismiss the notion. “It’s such a beautiful morning to enjoy one’s own company.”
“Of course, My Lady,” the maid acquiesced without so much as a raised brow. “Do you want me to start some tea or coffee for you?”
