There was a short silence, then he said quietly, “Would you prefer to delay the wedding night? Wait until you are less tired. And we are better acquainted.”
“No.”
He gave her a searching look. “You’re sure?”
“I’m sure.” She wanted to get it over with.
“Very well, then. I’ll join you in your bedchamber in half an hour.”
***
Cal sipped his cognac slowly. He’d never lain with a virgin before. He’d have to take it slow and careful. Gently does it.
He closed his eyes. Like restraining wild horses. He’d wanted her, dreamed of taking her ever since he’d kissed her that one time. One taste and... fire in the blood.
But he would control himself. Tonight, at least.
He finished his cognac and went upstairs.
His valet was still abroad, but his father’s elderly valet, Higgins, had unpacked and put all his things away and was waiting with hot water. Higgins seemed to have been kicking his heels here for the last year. Had Henry done nothing at all to organize the estate?
Cal had no need for a valet, but Higgins waited hopefully, so he allowed the man to help him remove his coat, waistcoat and boots, then dismissed him for the night. Higgins left, carrying Cal’s boots.
He stripped to the waist, washed, cleaned his teeth and then, as an afterthought, shaved himself carefully. Her skin would be tender. He dried his face, splashed on a little cologne water and combed his hair.
He turned and saw that Higgins had laid out a nightshirt and dressing gown on his bed. A nightshirt? He never wore the things.
But she was a virgin. Maybe he should wear it so she was not too shocked by the sight of a naked man. A naked, erect man. His body was already thrumming with anticipation.
Start as you mean to go on.He stripped off the rest of his clothes and shrugged into the dressing gown.
Would she even know what to do? What he was going to do to her?
He’d heard stories of ladies who had no idea of whatpassed between men and women, who’d screamed and fought on their wedding night, who’d been horrified and disgusted by the whole process.
Of course the first time was supposed to be a little painful, but he’d always heard that if you took care with a virgin, took things slowly, made sure she was well warmed up, her passions ignited and her juices flowing, the pain would be negligible.
Trouble was he’d never taken a virgin before. His previous lovers had all been experienced women who knew what they liked and demanded he give it to them.
Cal prided himself on his ability to ensure a woman’s satisfaction as well as his own. This was his wife. First time or not, he would do his best to make it good for her.
He knocked softly on the connecting door.
***
Emm lay in bed, waiting, tense as a violin string, straining her ears. She could hear him moving about in the dressing room that connected their two bedrooms, the low hum of male voices—talking to a servant?—a few splashing noises. A lot of silence.
She’d washed quickly, using the French rose-vanilla soap that was a gift from one of the girls, and cleaned her teeth. She slipped on her bridal nightgown, a gift from a favorite former pupil, Sally Destry, now married and a countess in London. Arriving in a box from something called the House of Chance, it was unlike any nightgown she’d ever seen: peach silk, almost transparent, with soft, loose ruffles that almost—but not quite—preserved her modesty.
If ever she needed a nightgown like this, it was tonight.
Then a knock, and before she could say a word, the door was open and there he stood, a dark silhouette against the light in the room behind. “You haven’t fallen asleep, then,” he murmured.
Her laugh was a little forced. He was wearing a silk brocade dressing gown in dark reds and golds. There was a deep vee of bare skin at his throat and a slight dusting of chest hair.
She’d left just one candle burning beside the bed.
“I suppose you would prefer darkness,” he said.
