Page 29 of Grasp the Thorn
He captured both her hands with his and lifted them one at a time to kiss them. “Relax, my wife, and just do what feels good. May I remove your night rail?”
She nodded, and in moments found herself naked, and lying across the middle of the bed, with her new husband beside her, his hands and eyes exploring parts of her no one had seen since she was old enough to bathe herself. And more! Surely, he doesn’t mean to touch me there?
“Open to me, sweet, and let me…” Whatever else he was thinking went unsaid as he bent in for one of those deep kisses that had been weakening her knees for days.
Her legs widened, almost without her volition, his hand creeping down into the cleft between. The sweet piercing sensation of his touch on her female parts caused an embarrassing gush of the same liquid that had unaccountably leaked when they kissed. Apparently, this was supposed to happen, for he lifted his mouth from hers long enough to murmur approval.
Well then. This was not so bad. This was better than not bad.
She lost herself in sensation, unable to keep from pressing against Bear’s lips and his fingers, and his hard, hard body, needing more. Bear moved his lips to her neck, then trailed kisses lower until he could suck her nipple into his mouth, and she arched toward him with a wordless cry of pleasure. He hummed in response, then surged back up to capture her lips again in a hungry kiss, only pulling away to say, “You are ready, are you not, Rosa? I am desperate to be inside you.”
Was this the more she wanted? She tensed a little, the eager sensations of seconds ago still there but masked behind apprehension. But this was what happened in a marriage bed. “Yes,” she said.
He shifted again so he hovered over her, holding his weight on one elbow while the other hand moved between them, adjusting her flesh to fit the blunt knob between them.
Then he thrust, driving all thoughts of pleasure from her mind.
CHAPTER 20
She is too small, Bear realized an instant before she screamed. He had not given her enough time, had not waited for her to adjust. Now it was too late. He was a clumsy, stupid, overgrown fool, and he had hurt his wife.
With a massive effort of will, he ignored the urgent need of his least responsible bodily part and forced himself to still. He lifted himself enough to put a hand either side of her head and look at her face. Tears spilled from her eyes and dripped toward her ears. He wiped them gently with his thumbs.
“Rosa? I’m sorry. I thought you were ready.” The last sounded like a whine or an accusation. He hastily added, “I should have taken more care, and more time.”
“I am all right, Hugh. I thought… I did not know. I have never done this before.”
Bear blinked. In all his ruminations on the probable lovers of the woman he intended to take to wife, he had never considered the possibility there were none. “You were a virgin?” he asked before his brain caught up with his mouth.
Her jaw dropped, and even in the candlelight he could see her turn whiter. “You thought I was not? You believed the stories? Hugh!” She tried to turn her head to hide the tears, running faster now, but he held her and his body pinned her, and even in the midst of this debacle, his male organ was firmly seated within her and begging him to stop talking and start ravishing.
Which made it hard to think. “No! Not all of them. Just, I thought there must be a seed…some incident long ago. I know you are a virtuous lady, Rosa, and a woman of your word, but girls can be misled by a scoundrel… I’ve always thought it unfair that Society blames them when so often it is their ignorance and the man’s lies to blame.” He bent to press a kiss to her lips, but they were as unyielding as stone.
“Rosa.” That was almost a groan.
“Is it over?” she asked. “Have you finished, Hugh? Because if you have, I would like to wash.”
Nothing could be salvaged from tonight except his dignity and hers. “Of course. One moment, please.” He withdrew from her as slowly and carefully as he could, an excruciatingly pleasurable torture over all too soon. “I will fetch water. Do you want your night rail?”
They managed a polite and distant exchange of commonplaces as she disappeared behind the screen and managed her ablutions. While she was hidden, he checked the sheet. No blood. Was she making it up, then? No. He would stake his entire fortune on her honesty. Even so, he didn’t understand. Didn’t virgins bleed?
I am an idiot, Rosa thought. Why had she not kept her mouth shut? Bear was too much of a gentleman to point out her shortcomings, but even the dullest and most innocent of ex-maidens could tell that she had failed him. If the formal reserve he donned as soon as got off her was not clue enough, the fact he dressed and left their bedroom, and a short while later the house, would have driven the point home. She watched him hurry through the dark garden to the path that led to Thorne Hall. He would go and wander around the ruins, forgetting his unsatisfactory wife while spinning plans for the refurbishment.
She should have bitten her tongue and kept her scream to herself. The pain—the stretching and burning—had shocked her, but as soon as he stopped moving, the sting began to fade and the fullness was almost pleasant. A little more than almost when he pulled out slowly, so her relief was mixed with regret.
Undoubtedly, he would want to do it again, and next time she would know what to expect. Unless she had given him a distaste for her. On that unpleasant thought, she cried herself to sleep.
Bear returned before dawn, opening the kitchen door with the key he had taken, and shaking his head of the clinging damp before entering the room. The rain must have started again.
“Would you care for a cup of tea?” Rosa asked, and he startled. “I have just boiled the kettle to make one for myself.”
“A cup of tea would be welcome.” His eyes searched her face, but he didn’t speak the question she saw. Was she all right? Was she upset? Was she hurt? He wanted to ask one of those, and she hardly knew the answer to any of them.
She swung the kettle off the fire and ladled the boiling water onto the prepared tea leaves in the pot. “There. We will let it steep for a minute. How long has it been raining?”
“Only ten or fifteen minutes. I was at the ruins. They’ve made good progress clearing the burnt wing so that it is safe, but this weather will delay our next steps.”
Rosa cut a wedge of bread, and another of cheese, then spooned some pickle onto a plate and added a pat of butter. “There,” she said, putting it in front of him. “That will keep body and soul together.”
