Chapter Sixteen
License my roaving hands, and let them go,
Behind, before, above, between, below.
—JOHN DONNE
Lily came slowly and sleepily awake the next morning. She lay, her eyes closed against the chinks of bright sunlight coming through the gaps in the curtains, gathering her thoughts. She stretched sleepily, languidly. She felt wonderful, as if her whole body wanted to smile.
She was smiling, she realized, though there was nobody else there.
She was married. She was alone in bed.
When had he left? Last night, after...dessert. She smiled again to herself. Bliss. Glory.
But only for her. She’d lain boneless, replete, satiated in every way, and waited for him to enter her, to take her as he’d taken her earlier.
Instead he’d slipped out of bed, picked up his robe, kissed her on the nose and murmured, “Sleep well.” And left.
She remembered watching him in the firelight, walking naked to his own room. His back was straight, the slope of his shoulders and the line of his spine beautiful, his backside firm, taut, shapely. He’d closed the door.
She’d felt cold then, without him. She felt cold now.
He’d kissed her on thenose. The nose! Like a child. And he hadn’t taken her in the way a man was supposed to take a woman—not if he wanted heirs. An heir was his mainreason for marrying—scandal aside. He owed it to his family name and title.
His body had wanted it; she remembered that proud hard shaft, velvety skinned with heat beneath. She must have done something wrong that first time. And now he was reluctant to repeat the experience.
But what he’d done to her—calling itdessert—would he call it that if he didn’t enjoy it? She thought he had, but then he didn’t follow through.
And he’d left her to sleep alone. Her brother and Emm always slept in the same bed.
It was all very confusing. But they were married; she had a lifetime to work it—work him—out.
• • •
Ned knocked softly, wondering whether she was awake yet. He opened the connecting door and found Lily sitting bolt upright in bed, hugging her knees, the covers huddled around her. “Yes? I mean, good morning.” She looked a little apprehensive.
He didn’t blame her. If she realized how eminently beddable she looked, all soft and flushed and sleepy, with tawny curls clustering around her face and bare shoulders—well, he wasn’t going to pounce on her. Not this morning, at any rate.
“Did you sleep well?” He was dressed for riding in buckskins and high polished riding boots. He’d shaved, which he wouldn’t normally do before a ride, but he was a married man now and the decencies had to be preserved. His hair was still damp.
“Yes, thank you, very well.”
“I wondered whether you felt like a ride.”
Her eyes widened. She glanced at the window, where the sun was peeping in through the curtains. It was a glorious morning. “Now?” she asked.
“Yes, before breakfast.”
It was as if the sun rose in her eyes. She glowed. “Yes, please.” She flung back the bedclothes and sat there, rosy and naked, a creamy mermaid in a welter of sheets. Shemade no move to get up, no move to dress herself. She simply sat in her bed, wearing nothing but a smile and an expectant look.
He moved to stand behind a chair. His body had reacted predictably to the sight of her naked loveliness. “Do you want me to ring for your maid?” he asked stiffly.
“No, of course not.” After a moment her smile faded and became a look of puzzlement. “I thought you wanted ‘a ride.’”
“I do. You don’t have to come if you don’t want to. I just thought, seeing it’s a beautiful morning, we should make the most of it. It could very well be raining by the afternoon.”
“Oh.” A blush suffused her whole upper body. It was fascinating. He tried not to stare. “You mean a ride?” She pulled the covers back over herself.
