herd of butterflies stampeded in her stomach. Was he already thinking the marriage a mistake? Would he ask her to leave at first light? No, he didn’t know, she told herself.
She forced herself to weave forward through the maze of burlap sacks, barrels and crates. “Unless you are upset with me—” She couldn’t bring herself to say unless he didn’t want her. That much bravery was beyond her. “—there is no need.”
She’d been fairly certain from the sour expression on his face after he’d offered to give her time that a delay was the last thing he wanted. He’d wanted to have marital relations. Men wanted her in that way. They just didn’t see her as anything more than a plaything, as if she were deficient on the inside in some way.
Or had she repulsed him with her inquiries into the circumstances of his birth?
He stood and folded his arms. “You said you needed time.”
Her face heated. “No. I thanked you for making the offer. I wasn’t expecting it.” She tightened her arms across her chest. His offer had seemed incredibly considerate. “I’m sorry, my response should have been clearer, but I was surprised.” She dropped her chin and looked at him through her lashes in what she hoped was a come-hither look. “And touched.”
His eyes bored into hers and his nostrils flared.
Her heart was beating so fast she could scarcely hear her own thoughts. She should hold out her hand to John, but she’d never had to seduce a man. Clarence had pursued her, kissed and cajoled her, then claimed she didn’t love him until she let him take her virginity in an alley against a brick wall. Or rather she had just stopped fighting him. Then he’d blamed her for being too tempting. Not virtuous enough to be a wife.
She never would have done it if she hadn’t thought she needed to give him what he wanted in order to keep him. She’d thought his complaints about her resistance meant she was losing him. Fool that she was.
“Are you certain?” John asked as he moved around his desk.
She nodded. “My mother always said it is better to just do whatever you are dreading, rather than let your fear of it grow in power.”
He stopped a good five feet from her. His lips twisted to the side. “Dreading?”
“Perhaps that is not the right word.” Selina rubbed her arm, her body cold, her face hot. She attempted a smile, but was too nervous to pull it off. It was the right word, but not one she should have spoken aloud. She should try to make John believe she desired him. “I want you to make me your wife,” she said in a breathy whisper. “Tonight. If that is what you want.”
He stared at her a long second, then gently asked, “Do you understand what I want to do with you?”
A shudder rolled through her. She couldn’t hold his gaze any longer. Her toes curled against the floorboard and a strange energy flooded through her, making her want to fling off the shawl. “I understand.”
His gaze dipped to her feet, then rolled back up to her face. Goodness, had he noticed her bare toes? Somehow that made her feel more exposed.
His brows drew together. “I can explain how it works, if that will make you less fearful.”
He was a man aware of little things. She didn’t know how she could fool him. Perhaps she shouldn’t have admitted to any knowledge, but if she was found out later that would only make her seem more of a liar. “I know what is to happen, but I don’t know if I will like anything beyond the kissing.”
“Trust me, you’ll like more than the kissing,” he said in a low voice.
A shudder rolled through her, but he was wrong. She certainly hadn’t enjoyed relations with Clarence, and it had hurt. He’d been rough and groping, twisting and shoving her corset until the whalebones stabbed her. But in the early days, when he’d simply held her hand and kissed her, she’d liked that.
That time with Clarence seemed so far away and so long ago. She’d been far more enamored with falling in love and getting married than she’d been certain he was the right man for her. And she shouldn’t be thinking about him now. John was her husband, and he’d offered to explain, which Clarence had never done.
She needed to focus on John. He seemed kind. Perhaps it wouldn’t be such an unpleasant undertaking with him. The tingling way she’d felt when he kissed her in the church was what she should be thinking about. His lips had been warm and coaxing, not demanding, as if he just wanted to take from her. But perhaps she had read too much into the kiss. Perhaps she wanted him to be caring and kind so badly, she’d seen what she wanted to see. “I just hope you will be gentle with me.”
“Of course.” His voice was rough.
She wanted to examine his face to see if he lied, but all her organs danced when she looked directly at him.
Why wouldn’t he close the space between them? Her knees were tapping together.
John tilted his head to the side. “Go on up to bed, and I will join you as soon as I close the safe.”
Behind the desk a thick black metal door stood open. So perhaps it was not an excuse to delay. Or was it? “I didn’t mean to anger you earlier.”
“I know.”
“I shouldn’t have asked so many questions,” she offered.
“You have the right to know about my past.” He shifted and folded his arms.
An arrow of remorse shot through her. He had the right to know about her past, too. Only as she risked looking at him, she couldn’t force the truth past her lips. Not with the way he felt about his mother’s abandoning him. It was too risky.
Turning back toward the stairs, she put one hand over her churning stomach. It still pooched out a bit. The dark line that had formed below her naval had faded, but the red welts where her skin had seemed to break beneath the surface were highly noticeable. She’d been told that in time the redness would turn to a silvery white, but anyone looking upon her naked would know she’d borne a child, especially a man who noticed details.
Her step faltered and her shoulders knotted.
Of course she knew there was no need to undress completely to accomplish the marriage act, but he might want that. A great many men loved seeing a woman without clothes—they’d even pay to see a naked woman or photographs of a naked woman—and she had no reason to think her husband would be different. She would just have to insist on darkness or never bare herself completely to him. At least not until she was great with his child and the marks could be credited to a new pregnancy.
The idea of being naked for him washed through her, doing strange things to her insides. Her stomach fluttered, and she swallowed repeatedly.
She fled toward the stairs. She was a coward and a cheat, and would not only have to perpetuate a lie, but would have to make sure he never saw her naked.
* * *
John wasn’t certain what to make of his wife. She was clearly scared of what was to come in bed, but wanted to get it over with. He, on the other hand, wanted her so badly he ached with need. Yet to make her his wife when she was afraid seemed a horrible misstep. The entire tone of their marriage could hang in the balance.
