She broke off, because she didn’t know what to say. She had no cause to protest—he was her husband. And he’d offered her an out.
Twice.
“Does your maid not do this?”
“Well, yes.” She felt a garter come loose, and his fingers traced down her calf, rolling the stocking off in a way that sent ripples of sensation over her skin. “But…with Jane it doesn’t feel like this,” she managed.
“I would hope not.” He raised a brow, making short work of the second garter, then held it up, all lace and satin ribbon. “A lovely little French confection, aye?”
“Madame Beaumont imports them. How did you know it came from France?”
He shrugged. “Lucky guess.”
She wondered if he’d removed other French garters. He certainly seemed rather good at it.
Her second stocking came off in a whisper of silk, and he stood, bringing her up with him. He pressed his lips to her forehead, and she melted a little inside.
He gathered her close, resting his chin on her crown. “Your hair smells like lavender fields, leannan.”
His low, throaty voice went right through her. She’d wondered what the marriage bed was all about, and now she had a husband of her own. Very soon she would find out.
You should know it will hurt…
Determined to calm her quivering nerves, to project an inner confidence she didn’t feel, she looked up at him. “I thought that toast was the only Gaelic you knew.”
“Pardon?”
“What does it mean, that word leannan?”
“I…I’m not sure.” His brow creased. “It just slipped out. My mother used to call me that, I think.”
“Maybe it means ‘misbehaving young man.’”
His laughter filled the small chamber. “I think not.” Still smiling, he moved to detach her stomacher. “Does your maid do this?”
“Yes,” she whispered, watching as he worked the tabs. The silver embroidery on her borrowed gown glistened in the firelight. When…how had it been lit? she wondered vaguely. But Trick’s lips were on her neck, doing strange things to the pit of her stomach, and she couldn’t seem to think straight.
He set the stomacher on a chest at the foot of the bed. “Does your maid do this?” His hands moved to pull the pins from her hair. “I think—what is this?” He jerked back, holding up a long red curl, his face registering utter disbelief.
“It’s a false curl. To make my hair plumper.”
“Plumper? Who needs plump hair?”
He raked his fingers through her tresses, coming out with two more curls and…
“Wires? Why wires?”
“To make the curls stand out.” Kendra shifted on her feet, suddenly feeling like Medusa. She tugged her own hands through her hair, plucking out several more wires and three additional curls. “That’s six? I think that’s all.”
“Where do you get these? Wait—I’d rather not know.” He tossed the curls away in disgust and combed the tangles from her hair with his fingers. “Have you any more surprises for me, then? Are your pretty lips your own? Maybe some false hips are hiding beneath that lovely gown?”
“No.” Her hands went to her hips. “These are mine. You don’t…they’re too wide, you think?”
“Nothing about you is wide.” He settled her hair over her shoulders, a curtain down her back. “Except perhaps your smile, and that hair, but we won’t be seeing that again now, will we? Or should I have thrown those curls into the fireplace?” He laughed as his hands covered hers, his thumbs tracing her hipbones. “Ah, the better to bear my children, aye?”
She shook her head. “Trick, the things you say…”
“Ah…” He leaned over her. “The things I say are nothing compared to the things I do.” His hands moved to cup her face, and he caught her up in a long, deep kiss.
Her knees buckled. Trick grabbed her, laughing, and swung her into his arms to deposit her on the bed. She felt dwarfed in its middle, the bedposts and ice-blue damask towering around her, but when Trick came down next to her, the bed was the last thing on her mind.
Coming up on an elbow, he leaned over her. “Does your maid do this?” he asked, slowly untying the bow at the top of her laces.
“N-no. At least, not like that,” she breathed, feeling his fingers part the front of her dress. Her chemise was under it, but still… “I never—”
She broke off, suddenly more than terrified.
Paralyzed.
He froze as well, watching her. “You never what?”
You should know it will hurt…
“I can’t do this,” she blurted out. “I’m sorry. It’s too soon. I didn’t expect to be married. I didn’t expect any of this. I’m—”
“All right,” he said, pulling his hands away.
“I’m not ready—”
“Kendra.” He blew out a breath. “I said it’s all right. We can wait.”
She blinked. “Do you mean it?”
“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.” Sitting up on the edge of the bed, he rubbed his face with his hands. “I won’t ever force you.”
She looked away, feeling so far out of the realm of anything familiar, she had no idea how she should appear, act, or respond. “Thank you,” she said finally.
“You’re welcome.” With a sigh, he rose. “I’ll give you time to ready yourself for sleep.”
Without another word, he walked over and drew a dressing gown from the wardrobe, then left the room.
It sounded like he was planning to come back. She had no idea what to do. It was night, and she had no nightclothes. Feeling shaky, she rose and removed her gown, then climbed back into the big bed in her long white chemise. There she lay waiting. There was nothing else she could do. For better or worse, she was wed to Trick Caldwell.
She wondered if things could get worse.
A while later, he came back into the room and stood over her. His golden hair gleamed in the firelight. “I tried to take it slow, tried to make this night easy for you. Why did you get scared?”
“I don’t know,” she hedged, fearing he’d think her a coward. But he was
