Page 56 of The Viscount's Pearl
He nodded.
“For me?”
“For you.”
She looked up at him, gazed into his face as though seeking answers.
“I want you to be happy,” he said. “I tried before, with your room and the shells but then I realised they were not right.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, a wave of sadness rising up in her, the familiar sense of failure. “I was rude, and I did not –”
“No,” he interrupted. “No. You were right. I did things to please a bride. A human bride. But you are a selkie bride.” He gave a laugh and his eyes shone with tears. “You are not like other women, and I gave you the wrong gifts, gifts that would please a different woman. I did not stop to think about what I knew of you, what you showed me of your true self.”
“The library –”
He nodded. “The library was better. I learnt from my mistakes.”
She looked back at him and then leant her head against his chest, felt his arms come gently about her and then tighten. Once again the tightness was too much, trapping her, squeezing her. But there was another desire inside her, a desire to be held, and she took a deeper breath and let it out, leant into him, the tightness now safety, love, belonging.
They stood there for a long time, in silence. Finally, Laurence loosened his embrace and she looked up into his face.
“Thank you.”
He nodded, waiting.
“What you said before…”
“I meant every word. I love you, Frances. Will you – would you be happy to have a true marriage with me? I cannot bear for us to have only a marriage of convenience. You are not a convenience to me. You are – you are everything.”
She took a step back and he frowned, but she put out her hand and he took it in his.
“I will.”
He let go of her hand, touched her cheek, then cupped her face in both hands and kissed her softly. At once she stiffened under his hands and lips. He looked down at her, disappointed. “Frances, do you not like to be kissed? To be… touched, when we are alone… in bed, even? Tell me.”
She frowned up at him. “It is… wonderful,” she managed at last. “It is… so much feeling that I think I will… I do not know what, that I might die from so much pleasure.”
He stared at her, lost for words. “But…” He tried again. “But you lie so still, you close your eyes, you do not…”
Her frown grew deeper. “My mother said… that a lady must not… must not show…” She swallowed. “She said a lady should lie still and silent, that she should close her eyes and let her husband do as he wishes,” she finished, cheeks crimson and voice low. “Is that not right? I tried to do it right, but it was difficult to stay still when I felt… so much.”
“Oh, Frances,” he whispered. “Oh Frances, my strange selkie. Your mother was… she was sowrong, Frances.” He grabbed her and crushed her to him, and she startled, but then embraced him as tightly as he held her. “Frances, promise me you will never follow the ways of theton, ever again.”
She let out a gasp of laughter. “I have never been adept at following their ways.”
“Then leave them entirely behind. I beg you.” He held her at arm’s length, looking into her face, then gently pulled her back to him and kissed her again and this time she was soft in his arms, her lips moved beneath his, her mouth opened to his touch and they were lost in one another.
“Come,” he said after a few moments.
“Come where?” She hoped not back to the ball, although she could bear it better now.
“Down to the sea to find the first shells for your grotto, of course.”
“But the ball…”
“You see? You are the perfect guest.”
She laughed as he steadied the ladder for her, climbing out and then reaching her hand back for him, his grasp firm on her hand as he reached the top and brushed himself down, sliding the cover back into place.
