Page 56 of Miss Delightful
And yet, she could not lie outright, not to him. “And if he was?”
“Then I hope he was considerate, but I suspect—given your antipathy toward him—that he bungled matters badly. My first encounter was noteworthy for how poorly I acquitted myself. I shudder to recall the brevity of the interlude, but the lady, who was ten years my senior, said she was pleased with my youthful ardor—or graciously pretended she was.”
The memory made him frown as he took up his second sandwich.
“The recollection is awkward?”
“Awkward, but also… dear. That randy, bumbling boy wanted so badly to become a man and had not the first inkling of what manhood entails. He tried his best, pathetic though that often was. My father, bless him, made sure I knew every detail of whisky-making, but was much less forthcoming regarding dealings with the ladies. I will try to ensure that John is better informed than I was. More tea?”
The question was so prosaic, and the topic so intimate, that Dorcas felt tears well again. Alasdhair already saw himself as a parent where John was concerned.
“This is why you resisted taking John in, isn’t it? You know not only what manhood entails, but what honor entails. You will be a good father to John or no father at all.”
He brushed a finger over her lips. “The things you say, my heart. I am not the lad’s father, though your papa assumed I was. Does the vicar know of your past with your other suitor?”
“He must never know.”
Another silence ensued, while all manner of arguments bubbled up from Dorcas’s guilty conscience: Papa would be devastated to know what she’d done, he’d try not to blame her, Mornebeth would play the moment with exquisite skill, and the whole sordid mess would never die.
“You are tired,” Alasdhair said, pouring her a second cup of tea, “and this is a difficult topic that need not be raised again.” He fixed the second cup as he had the first—exactly how she liked it—and passed the mug over. “I have applied for a special license.”
That announcement was cause for all manner of relief. “Have you?”
“I am poorer by five pounds and wealthier by an infinite abundance of hope. I will be notified by messenger when the documents are ready, and if you don’t mind, I’d like my cousins to be present at the ceremony.”
“You are very efficient, Mr. MacKay. I have not accepted your proposal.”
He sipped his tea, and even that commonplace activity had Dorcas focusing on his mouth.
“Why haven’t you, Dorcas? It occurred to me that we have not discussed money, and that is an oversight on my part.”
“We need not discuss money.”
“The hell we need not. Life is uncertain, and no wife of mine will be left to make shift when the MacKay resources can provide for her amply. I’ve written to my father, but he has been urging me to the altar since I turned one-and-twenty. I well know what my bride can anticipate in terms of settlements.”
“Alasdhair, I’m sure the settlements will be very much in order. I meant no insult.”
He set down his mug and regarded her with the sort of glower he’d affected on their first meeting. “If it’s not the money, and it’s not your Papa’s blessing, then what holds you back, Dorcas? I’m in good health, I have all my teeth. My family isn’t awful, except for Finn, and he can’t help himself.”
Alasdhair shifted from the hearth and knelt beside her chair. “I adore you. You know that, don’t you? I’m not good with the pretty speeches, but you will always have my love and protection, Dorcas. I will honor my vows all my days, and—”
She kissed him and slipped an arm around his neck before her courage failed. “Before, you said you hoped that I was shown consideration…”
Alasdhair wrapped her close. “I did say that, I do hope that.”
This much truth she would give him. “It was awful. It was… I threw up afterward, all three times. Mornebeth said I’d learn to enjoy it, but, Alasdhair… I am haunted. He did not hurt me. Physically, I felt almost nothing. Some awkwardness, some confusion that such a graceless business should garner so much interest. I stumbled around in a fog of dismay for months, wondering what on earth I’d done, and I very much worry that…”
Alasdhair spoke quietly. “That you won’t enjoy marital intimacies?”
She nodded, grateful that he could not see the blush heating her face. “That there is something wrong with me, that Icannotenjoy them. That I have no animal spirits. That my punishment is an inability to enjoy that which I stole for my own purposes. I hardly know how to put into words the combination of worry, resentment, longing… Will you take me to bed? I want to get it over with.”
She expected him to sit back, or worse, move away. To recall a pressing appointment at his club that required him to walk her home in the next quarter hour.
“Say something, Alasdhair.”
He stroked her hair. “I’m thinking. What does honor require of me when you are in such a state? When you are in my arms, I could convince myself that a stiff prick has become the embodiment of chivalry rather than Beelzebub’s magic wand. You are weary and beset. I have badgered you into disclosures you dreaded to make…”
“Do you want to take me to bed?”Please say yes.
