Page 24 of Cora
They were as hard as agates, as usual, yet fire danced within those depths. What did it mean? Was he plotting her death, or?—
“I see you anticipated my arrival,” he said. Was that a note of amusement in his tone? No, that would require him to have a sense of humor.
Cora waved one hand down her body, feigning confidence. “Bought and paid for. Have at it.”
She lay back on the bed, doing her best imitation of a starfish.
“Get rid of the dog first.”
Cora rolled over and scooped up a resistant Titi, deposited her in the adjoining room with the desk and the piano, and closed the door quickly. Then she moved to resume her place on the bed.
Halfway there, Gideon caught her by the wrist.
This was the moment. She had to tell him. But the words stuck in her throat when he tugged her close. His nearness sent her pulse racing. He was so big that he made her feel delicate. The way he held her made her feel…treasured.
His mouth hovered at the edge of her ear. Close enough for his breath to skim across the shell. A needy throb between her legs responded. That fluttery sensation was back, only it was a hundred times more intense than she had ever felt it before.
If she told him the truth, he would humiliate her all over again.
“I won’t hurt you.”
“I know.” She did, for that aspect of the event had already been dispensed with. She would die to have him kiss her again, and she would rather die than admit it. If he touched half as well as he kissed, she could even see the merits of physical intimacy.
Her body longed for it. She was so lonely, and so tired of feeling that way.
Gideon angled himself between her thighs and threaded his fingers through her hair. The silence stretched, freighted with all the hurt and betrayal that had led to this moment.
His lips brushed hers. Cora’s parted with a gasp. Her hold tightened on his biceps. His arm slid around her waist, tugging her closer.
He waited.
She hesitated.
What did he want from her that he didn’t already have?
He owned her. Legally. Morally. Forever.
“Nor will I force you,” he said. “I will bed you when you come to me of your own volition. Not one second before.” He pulled away so quickly that Cora stumbled. Her core pulsed, aching with want.
For him. Her worst nightmare.
* * *
Two weeks later
“You look so…”Honey’s eyes searched Cora’s face. “Different.”
“I feel like a child playing dress-up.”
More to the point: she felt like an oversized doll who was being dressed up by a diabolical little girl obsessed with tea parties and frivolities. The new gowns had begun to arrive. Boxes of them in every shade of emerald, maroon, yellow, and duller shades like fawn, cut to accentuate her waist and requiring corsets so restrictive Cora could hardly breathe. Martha’s selections, mostly.
Honey ignored her complaint and seized the hem of her jacket. “The color is a daring choice.Ladies’ Monthlyclaims brunettes shouldn’t wear blue, but I think it’s quite becoming on you.”
Cora had limited patience for discussions of fashion, but as long as her friend wasn’t asking questions about her marriage, she was content to let Honey prattle on. This was a far better way to spend an afternoon than the way she had spent the first week of her supposed honeymoon: meeting with her new mother-in-law to sort through letters congratulating her husband upon their nuptials, and planning the upcoming Season’s social calendar.
Each meeting with Martha Wentworth had been liberally peppered with snide remarks about Cora’s parentage and height, neither of which she could change, as well as a sprinkling of intrusive comments about when she might give her eldest son an heir. Miraculously, Cora bit her tongue to refrain from answering that the endeavor required two participants, and thus far, one had proved to be less than enthusiastic.
She remained puzzled by his behavior.
