Emotional? He thought it a damn sight more than emotional. It was bloody fantastic.
“Will you wish to repeat it again this evening?” she inquired.
This evening? He wished to repeat it right now, this very minute. He was hardly sated. Their initial coupling had only whetted his appetite for more. Yet there would be no pleasure for him unless Dorothea also undertook this journey to ecstasy. Was it the daylight that made her so shy, so reticent?
“I doubt I can wait until this evening, sweetheart.”
For several seconds, she said nothing. Then she gazed into his eyes, her features neutral. “Very well. What time shall I expect you in my bedchamber?”
Her stilted, formal reply was the first inkling that his bride had not enjoyed the delights of their nuptial bed to the same extent as he. Her small, nervous step away from him as he approached her was the second sign.
“Are you still very sore?”
“Carter, please. Must we discuss this?”
Irrationally, her quiet plea brought on his anger. “Yes. I will not have you cringing and cowering every time I approach you.”
Her eyes flashed. “I hardly did that, sir,” Dorothea said defensively. “Nor would I ever act in such a manner. I know and accept my duties as your wife. All my duties. And I should like to point out that I would not have said one word about last night unless you asked me.”
Well, she had him there. He had been the one to bring up the topic. But only because he anticipated a completely different response.
“I know the initial bedding can be difficult for a woman, but I thought I prepared your body well. I don’t understand what went wrong.”
“Ah, so you speak from experience? You have deflowered a good many virgins over the years?”
Carter winced. That comment rankled. She made him sound like a sexual deviant. Was that truly what she believed?
“You were my first, and last, virgin,” he stated emphatically.
“A rare honor for me, then.”
“Dorothea, what is wrong? Did I hurt you that badly?” He reached for her hand and held it between his palms, startled to feel its chill. He anxiously studied her face, but it was a mask of impassive stone. “We promised last night there would be no secrets between us.”
She squeezed his hand, then slowly pulled it away. “It wasn’t all horrid. It started out quite wonderfully actually, right until, well, you know.”
“Until what? Until I penetrated you?”
Dorothea groaned. “I really cannot have this discussion with you.”
“’Tis my fault. I should have taken you slow and easy, but you were so passionate, so giving. I lost my head.” He accompanied his apology with a boyish grin, designed to melt even the coldest heart. But Dorothea did not smile. She averted her eyes.
“I know it is different for a man. I understand that you were only being true to your nature. Rest assured, I will fulfill my wifely duties with all the passion I can muster.”
He made a gruff, impatient sound. “No matter how abhorrent they are to you?”
“I did not say that,” she insisted, crossing her arms against her breasts.
The gesture called his attention to her ample bosom. He recalled the luscious shade of her dusty rose nipples contrasting with the milky smoothness of creamy round breasts. The sight and taste of them had driven him to near madness, and the memory was more than enough to bring him swiftly to arousal again.
With effort he lifted his gaze from her luscious body. And then he saw it. The vulnerability on her beautiful face, the uncertainty and wariness shadowed in her eyes. It made him feel like an utter cad.
She had trusted him to treat her gently and he had failed her. Unintentional, but that did not make it any better. His passion and desire had made him selfish. It was hardly the way to treat a wife, and certainly not what she deserved.
She appeared to recover her composure, then attempted a smile. It failed. “It wasn’t that awful,” she whispered. “That is to say, well, at least the most painful part ended quickly.”
She released a long, slow breath, then straightened her shoulders, like a soldier determined to go into battle despite his fear.
Carter felt his gut clench. He had never been so wounded by a remark in his entire life. He knew how to pleasure a woman. How to make her pant with anticipation, move her entire body with restless desire, shout at the top of her lungs when she reached her climax.
“I can assure you, madam, that I have not taken you as my wife solely for the purpose of appeasing my rabid, unnatural hunger for sex.”
“I assumed that was what a mistress was for, poor thing.”
His head jerked up. His former mistresses were hardly poor things. Due to his generosity they were financially independent women, and he had never once heard a complaint from any of them regarding his sexual prowess. “We agreed before our marriage to honor our vows of fidelity. I will not take a mistress, nor do I want one. I want you.”
Her breath hitched. “Truly?”
“Yes. As my wife, only you can produce an heir.”
The hopeful expression faded from her lovely face at his final words. Instantly he realized he should not have admitted the last. Telling a woman he wanted her to bear his children was not a helpful approach to this problem. Besides, he truly did not want another woman. He wanted Dorothea.
“I know my duty, sir,” she said coldly. “I will not shirk it. There will be an heir, as you require.”
Carter sighed loudly, raking his outstretched fingers through his hair. “Saints preserve us all, I will not have my wife consider bedding me a duty. It will be a joy and a pleasure for both of us.”
She shrugged as if she had no earthly idea how to make that happen.
“You enjoy my kisses,” he said, almost more to himself than her. “My touch does not appear to revolt you.”
“I never said that it did. Carter, please, last night was not a complete disaster. I enjoyed it, well, all except for the very last bit. And I can school myself to endure that part of the act. It was over quickly enough.” She tilted her head to one side, her expression thoughtful. “Though perhaps the problem has more to do with size. Apparently I am small and you are rather, um, rather large. Maybe if we joined our bodies while your…while you…while it was much smaller it would bring me less discomfort?”
Carter sputtered. Another man might have been angry. She had insulted his skills as a lover as well as his lack of endurance. Over quickly, indeed! The one thing she had accomplished was compliment the size of his equipment, but that was unintentional. Enter her while he was small? Surely he had not just heard her spew such nonsense.
Carter had always prided himself on being a considerate lover, patient and lustful. Not since he was an untried lad had it been necessary for him to exert a great deal of effort in seducing a female. A few charming words, a sultry smile, a passionate kiss and they were in his bed, eager and willing. And they left it satisfied, often purring their contentment.
It would be so with his wife. Carter’s helplessness escalated, but he knew he could not unleash his frustration on her. She was blameless. He had misread the situation utterly, he had bungled it all badly and put a fear of copulation into Dorothea in the process. What an idiot. He knew he would have to dispense with the fear if he ever wanted an eager, passionate wife in his bed.
His path was clear. He would have to woo, to romance, to seduce his bride. He owed it to himself, but more importantly, he owed it to her.
Chapter Twelve
The day after her wedding was turning out to be far more complicated, and emotional, than Dorothea ever anticipated. After a thoroughly embarrassing conversation with her husband, which ended with his abrupt
