Page 65 of The Sea Siren of Broadwater Bottom
Not that it mattered what she wore. It would all be coming off as soon as he arrived.
Her arms seized at that thought, shrinking to curl against her chest. She willed her knotted wrists to relax. It was natural to be nervous, but she wanted this. She wanted him.
She had lit every candle in the room. She did not care that this was shameless. She was quite looking forward to seeing Edward Astley in the altogether.
There was a soft knock at the door, and Elissa scurried on tiptoes across the room. She opened the door without thinking to check that it was him, but it was, and the next thing she knew, Edward was slipping inside.
His dressing gown wasn’t pilling, grey wool. It was made of midnight-blue silk brocade, and he looked heart-stoppingly handsome in it, as those brilliant blue eyes devoured the sight of her in her chemise. She hastily shut the door and turned to smile at him. “G-good evening,” she stuttered, fidgeting with her plait.
“Good evening,” he answered, his voice pitched a half-octave lower than usual.
They stood blinking at each other. Elissa found herself at a loss. She had assumed he would take the lead, but after a moment of standing there, she reached out, took his hand, and led him nervously toward the bed. He was carrying a glass of water, which he set down on her dressing table as they passed.
She stopped at the foot of the bed and turned to face him. She found him staring unseeingly across the room. He made an emphatic gesture, then another one. Had the circumstances been different, she would have thought he was… rehearsing some sort of speech.
“Edward?” she asked tentatively. “Do you want to, er—”
He nodded, and his eyes snapped to hers. “I presume you have read Ovid?” he asked abruptly.
She blinked at him once… twice… three times. “Ovid?”
“Ovid,” he confirmed.
“I… I… of course,” she replied, bewildered.
He began pacing the room. “I do not refer to hisMetamorphoses.”
“Um… do you not?” Was it her imagination, or were his cheeks slightly flushed?
“I refer,” he said, turning to face her at the far end of the room, “toThe Art of Love.”
“Oh,” she said, comprehending. Now she was the one blushing, because Ovid’sArt of Lovewas… quite explicit. “I—I have read it.”
“Good,” he said in a clipped voice. “I have read it as well. You see—” He broke off, cringing.
His pacing had brought him back to where she stood at the foot of the bed, and Elissa reached out and caught both of his hands in hers. “Edward?” she asked tentatively.
“It’s just—” He was looking everywhere but at her. “You know me well enough to know that I’m not the type to go around cornering the housemaids.”
“Of course not.”
“Or visiting a—a brothel.”
“Indeed, no.”
“So the truth is… the truth is…” He swallowed thickly and closed his eyes, then said in a rush, “The truth is that I have never done this before.”
“Oh!” She was surprised, because it was her impression that most men did not wait for their wedding night, and he could not have lacked for opportunities.
But she wasn’t displeased.
Edward, however, seemed to regard this as a source of some embarrassment. His eyes remained squeezed shut. “I want you to know, Elissa, that I intend to do everything within my power to please you.” She felt her heart melting, becauseof coursethat would be his worry, whether he could make this good forher. And also because she could see how hard this was for him, to admit something he perceived to be a weakness. She could tell how important it was to him that he succeed in this. Edward Astley expected himself to be good at everything, and he looked terrified that he might fail her tonight.
He opened his eyes but still didn’t look at her. Instead, he stared resolutely over her shoulder as he said, “And although I do not have any firsthand experience, as I said, I have read Ovid. I therefore know that there is a particular spot somewhere between your legs where ‘a woman loves to be touched.’” He shook his head, staring off into the corner. “If only I knew the precise location of this spot.”
Elissa swallowed, her heart suddenly flying. She was terror-stricken to speak one of her most closely guarded secrets out loud, but she had to help him. “I—I know where it is.”
“If we can but find it,” he said, seeming not to have heard, “it will greatly increase the chances of our success.”
