Page 21 of Grasp the Thorn
“We have no guarantee I am fertile,” she warned.
He seemed to think he had won, for his grin became smug. “That would be true no matter who I married.”
“I need to think. May I give you my answer tomorrow?” Surely by tomorrow he would have changed his mind. For if he did not, the answer must be yes. For her father’s sake, if for no other reason; and there were a multitude of other reasons.
In the early dawn, when she served him coffee and a plate loaded with food to fuel his morning’s work, he did not pester her for a decision, but he returned early for lunch, driven home by a heavy shower.
“Have you had enough time to think, Miss Neatham?” he asked, as he entered the kitchen door and interrupted her bread making.
“Yes, Mr Gavenor.”
He stripped off his rainwear and advanced on her with hands outstretched. “Yes, you have had time to think? Or yes, you will marry me?”
Rosa blushed, and allowed him to capture her hands.
“Yes, I will marry you, Mr Gavenor.”
He bent from his great height and brushed her lips with his. “Then you had better call me Bear, as my friends do. Or Hugh, if you prefer. My great aunt used to call me Hugh.”
“Hugh, then. Thank you, Hugh. I shall try to be a good wife.”
He kissed her again, another butterfly touch of the lips, then put his hands on her waist and lifted her to sit on the dresser. Now her face was level with his.
“That is better,” he murmured against her mouth. Then his lips met hers again, not a mere brush this time, but a gentle and inexorable advance, setting her lips tingling and taking her breath. His hands slid behind her, pulling her against his chest, so he stood between her open knees, his body pressed tightly to hers.
No, just one hand hugged her, for the other came up behind her head, and tipped it slightly, holding it in place as his lips moved against hers and his tongue swept the seam of her shut mouth once, twice, and again. He hummed with satisfaction when she parted her lips a little, letting his tongue dart inside, and her whole body hummed with pleasure.
Pelman had subjected her to a kiss once; an awkward, embarrassing thing, with her twisting to escape and him boxing her into a corner and pawing her body while he slobbered on her face. The new Lord Hurley, who had also propositioned her when he first arrived at the Hall, had respected her refusal. In fact, he had rather avoided her, and had left again not long after the will was read.
Pelman laughed when she said ‘no’ and waylaid her when she was alone. It had, until now, been her only experience of the pastime, and she had not seen the appeal.
It was very different being the focus of Bear’s undivided attention, the recipient of his tender passion.
She lost herself in the new feelings, grasping his shoulders to bring herself closer to his body, trying her best to imitate the movements of his mouth and tongue.
He pulled away, and rested his forehead on hers, still holding her close. “We had best stop, Rosabel. You are to be my wife, and worthy of all respect, and I have no intention of tupping you on the kitchen dresser. At least, not until we are wed.”
Rosa reluctantly let him go, and he stepped back a little so he could lift her down to the floor. She was pleased to see he looked almost as dazed as she felt. “Would you call me Rosa?” she asked.
“If you wish, though Rosabel suits you. Beautiful rose. My beautiful Rosa. Much better than the ones growing outside, for your thorns do not draw blood.” He still held her waist, and he leaned forward to drop a kiss on her hair. “I will move to the village this afternoon, Rosa, and will ask the rector to post the banns tomorrow.”
CHAPTER 15
The timing was excellent. Bear had done all he could at Thorne Hall. Now he needed to talk to the local suppliers of building materials and labour, and prepare for the skilled work crew from Liverpool who would arrive within a week. He could better do that if he were living in the village.
He would miss Rosa, and that in itself was an excellent reason to move. This marriage was a practical business arrangement, and a fortnight to get his feelings into better order would help him remember that.
She was either a very good actress or even more innocent than he thought, her kiss enthusiastic but unpractised. The idea of tutoring her had him groaning and adjusting the fit of the moleskins he’d donned for his trip to the village.
She was waiting to see him off, looking as bereft as he felt. “I will hire a maid and a cook, Rosa, and send them out to you,” he promised, then had to argue it was his right as her betrothed to pay for the servants he would certainly insist on having once they were wed.
“The cook is as much for the business as for the household, since I usually feed the gang’s foreman several times a week during a project.”
“Making enough for one more at the table is hardly work at all,” Rosa retorted.
In fighting her corner, she had recovered her poise. Something to remember. If this wife he had determined to take was unsettled, making her cross would help drive away the shadows.
“I’m sending them, Rosa,” he said firmly. “You have enough to do with your father to care for, and I won’t have you making yourself sick.”
