CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Felicia paced the carpet of her bedchamber, relishing the lush fabric against her bare feet. She fussed with the neckline of her nightrail, tugging it down and then after glimpsing it in the mirror, pulling it back up.
When would Hugh arrive? She glanced again at the connecting door. She knew for certain he was in his bedchamber, most likely preparing himself for this evening.
What did men wear for bedclothes anyway?
She had asked Great-Aunt Aurore, but the woman was as uninformed as Felicia was. She did not want to ask Julian, for it might have disconcerted him to think of the realities of this evening involving his sister.
She began pacing again. She knew some of what to expect between a man and a woman, thanks to some books she had discovered tucked away in Julian's library. There would doubtless be a lot more stirrings involved, but beyond that, it remained a mystery.
Which is why she had no idea whether her husband would appear in a robe, or a less formal version of his daily wear, or just what precisely. It began to seem that he might not show at all.
A nearby candle flickered. She looked expectantly at the connecting door, but it remained shut. Apparently the candle had reacted to an errant breeze.
She strode towards the connecting door. If Hugh was not in a hurry to come to her bedchamber, there was nothing to stop her from appearing in his. She had no reason to play the shy miss. It was not her style, not at all.
And Hugh would be wise to remember that about his wife.
She grabbed the latch, ready to yank it open, but then she hesitated. She did not want to startle him. She knew he found her enthusiasm fascinating, but she worried he also found it disconcerting. She took a deep breath, doing her best to slow down her racing heart. Yet how could she remain calm when all she could think of was being in Hugh's arms, at last?
Doubts began to creep in. Maybe he would never see past her flighty nature, and would continue to see what she was, not what she planned to become: the perfect wife for him, the perfect mother for his child.
An even more dreadful thought occurred to her. What if he truly did view this marriage as nothing more than a business transaction?
She leaned her head against the solid wood door and groaned.
~ * ~
"Felicia?" Hugh's heart thudded at the thought of her in distress. "Are you quite all right?"
"Yes, I am," she answered, her voice revealing she was close to the door.
She was waiting for him. Knowing Felicia, she was ready to open the connecting door and insist on being let into his bedchamber. He forced himself to breathe in slowly, to reduce her impact on his unruly body.
"Hugh," she whispered, negating all of his calming efforts with that one word. "I want to open this door."
"I know."
He plastered both hands on the solid door, as if it would keep his passion in check, prevent him from succumbing to her siren voice. He did not speak for several long moments.
"Hugh?"
"Yes?"
"Oh, I wondered if you had fallen asleep."
He chuckled. It was not possible to fall asleep. In truth, he was in such a state because he had lain awake the entire previous evening. He might have slept for a few moments before the sun rose, but it was not likely. All he could do was think of Felicia, his growing feelings for her, and how that would disrupt the future he had plotted out so carefully.
"No," he answered. "I am not asleep. I thought you would be though."
He heard a soft laugh, and his body reacted again. She was a tonic. An elixir that he could not help but crave.
"Are you coming to my bedchamber?" she asked. "Or would you prefer I come to yours?"
"What would you prefer?"
"I would prefer we carry on a conversation without this door serving as a chaperone."
Her annoyance made him grin. It also eased his misgivings. Surely there could be no harm in speaking with his bride in person. So long as he stayed out of reach of her pinching fingers.
She rattled the door latch just as he attempted to open the door.
"Felicia, let me do this. If you please."
"I could hear the sneer in your voice, Hugh."
"You only imagined it," he lied.
"Hah!" She gave the handle another shake.
"Felicia, I cannot unlatch the door when you persist in that fashion."
"Then I shall do it."
"How about this?" he offered. "I shall open it on the count of three."
"Very well," Felicia answered, although the words were followed by a heavy sigh.
"One." Hugh's heart picked up pace.
"Two," she said, her voice a little softer than previously.
He opened his mouth to utter, "Three", but the door nearly crashed into him. He stepped back, shocked and exasperated and ready to scold his bride.
Until he saw her.
He couldn't breathe. His lungs ached with the effort. She was ethereally beautiful, clad in white sheer fabric, her hair falling around her in all the places he ached to touch. His bride—not blushing, no, not one whit—smiled triumphantly. Her eyes sparked with a passion she was clearly impatient to explore.
How could he hope to hold to his original plan? His forte had always been indulging his desires, not resisting them. Now his nerves were completely shot from denying his need for this maddening woman.
He raised a shaky hand and grasped the door, to steady himself while he pondered how to regain control of the situation.
The nearby fire popped, startling him. His hand slipped and the connecting door slammed shut.
"Hugh! Have you lost your wits?"
"Yes, I have," he answered. He re-opened the door and swept his arm out to indicate she should enter. "I can see I shall never have a moment's peace with you as my wife."
She narrowed her eyes as she passed by him, but he could see the mischief shining there. He could not help but laugh. This was nothing like the wedding night he had anticipated.
And he was enjoying every minute of it.
He started to offer her a chair, near the fireplace, but she marched straight to his bed and sat down. To his dismay, she wriggled her bottom until the edge of the mattress met the back of her knees. Her toes peeked out from beneath her nightrail, and she kicked her legs back and forth, as if she was dangling her feet in a stream.
"Would you care for some wine?" he managed, striding towards the bottle across the room.
"Yes, I would."
He splashed a healthy amount in a glass and knocked it back before refilling it. He poured a small measure into another glass, and returned to hand it to Felicia. He kept a tight grip on his own glass.
"Thank you," she said and took a small sip. "Oh, this is delicious." Felicia took another swallow, watching him over the rim of the glass. She focused her attention on his chest, exposed by his half-open shirt, and then briefly glanced lower at his breeches. Her eyebrows raised briefly, and her cheeks pinkened.
Hugh forced himself to savor his wine this time, but only because he did not want to take his eyes off her, not even for the amount of time to down his entire glass in one shot. How could he when she admired him so openly? He was not about to miss a moment of that.
She lowered the glass and then glanced around for someplace to set it. She twisted and somehow managed to stretch out nearly the entire length of the bed before she could set the glass down on the nearby table.
Her calves were completely exposed, displaying such enticing curves and smooth pink skin. The nightrail clung to her bottom, another display of curves that made him grip the chair next to him until his knuckles were white.
Finally she sat back up. "Hugh, you look pale." She smoothed the bed next to her. "Perhaps you should sit down for a moment."
"I believe you are correct." He pretended he had not seen her gesture and plopped down in the nearby wing chair.
Felicia laughed and then climbed down from the bed, making her way towards him. He had to fight to stay seated. She was such an extraordinary beauty, yet it was the fire and determination in her face that nearly unmanned him. How was he going to resist her? She was clearly not amenable to that notion.
Before he could stand up and try to move further away, she plopped down into his lap. The minx was going to kill him. There was no other possible outcome. He grasped her head, warning her with his eyes that he was too weak to resist her, but she did not care.
She placed her mouth on his. He responded with hunger, holding her so tight she could probably not breathe. But her lips were too delicious for him to stop. Everything she did, her moans, her tongue darting into his mouth, stoked his desire to an unbearable level.
"Stop," he told her, resting his forehead against hers. "We must stop."
"Why? I begin to believe you are avoiding me. Am I so frightening?"
He shook his head. "Of course not."
"Oh, then that can only mean I am not appealing to you." She frowned, crossing her arms at the same time.
"Felicia, I have no idea how you came to such a conclusion."
"Perhaps it is because you seem to want to spend our wedding night in two separate corners of this bedchamber."
He could not let his eyes continue to roam her delectable face. Her cheeks were rosy with her heightened emotion, and her crossed arms gave such a pronounced effect to her bosom. This night was one of the most uncomfortable he had ever had to endure.
"I merely wanted to give you time to become accustomed to this new situation," he began.
She burst out laughing. "Honestly, Hugh, you say the most outrageous things with such a stern countenance."
He could not help but grin. "Why is it so outrageous?"
"Have you forgotten I am the one who has been chasing you for weeks?"
"Of course I have not forgotten. But this is still a new enterprise for you, after all, and I mean to accommodate—stop giggling."
She dropped her hands from her mouth. "I cannot. You are much too ridiculous."
He straightened. "I am attempting to be a good husband, respectful of your needs—"
She slid off his lap and got back onto the bed, her eyes watching his expression the entire time. He could not look away. He could not even think of anything that would make him tear his eyes away from hers at that moment. Her lips tilted up with playfulness, something he found so erotic, making him powerless to resist her.
She held her hand towards him, and even though he told himself to stay seated, he stood. He walked towards her, knowing he was losing a battle, but unable to stay away. Still, he tried to keep his distance. He sat on the edge of the bed, near the spot where her toes were.
A quick frown passed over her face, or maybe he imagined it, because in the next instant she was smiling. "Hugh, I wonder if I might ask a question."
"Of course," he said without hesitation.
"What exactly are we supposed to do?"
He felt a moment's relief that his bride's elopements had not ended as many had assumed. His lips turned up in a smile, especially since Felicia did not duck her head or look away in embarrassment.
"I could not very well ask Great-Aunt Aurore, for she is likely as unaware as I am, having remained unmarried for half a century."
"You are at a disadvantage."
"I thought to ask Julian—"
Hugh wanted to reach for the wine goblet again. "Please tell me you jest."
"I do not! Unfortunately Tony came in at just that moment and I did not care to discuss the topic with both of them present."
He closed his eyes, muttering a silent thank you that her conversation had indeed been interrupted. In the next instant he realized what a godsend it was, this moment. She had no expectations for him to meet, so he could put her off a while longer, and she would be none the wiser.
Yet a devil assured him they could surely enjoy themselves a small amount this evening, their wedding night.
"Generally there is a great deal of kissing," he said, convinced he could withstand that much temptation. "And caressing."
Felicia watched him carefully, as if trying to detect whether he was being truthful. She could not possibly know whether he had omitted anything, but just to be certain, he would distract her from further questions. He leaned towards her, putting one hand on either side of her on the bed.
She closed her eyes, waiting for his lips to touch. He marveled at her beauty, and the passion just under the surface, and the way she stirred him, even when she had no idea she did.
He pressed his lips to hers, and felt her sigh at the same time her arms curled around his neck. Her hands were tender and delicate, the way they smoothed over him. Her skin was so soft on his. He deepened the kiss, and she opened her mouth when he did, tangling her tongue with his. He wrapped his arms around her, nearly crushing her with his haste, but she did not complain. Instead she wriggled closer, pressing her breasts against his chest.
He sat back, his breath ragged, and moved away slightly. She tilted her head, studying him, and then recommenced the caressing of his neck. He sighed. Her touch was pure heaven, easing his fears and concerns at once.
"Come here," she said, her voice filled with comfort rather than seduction. He glanced up and saw the concern in her eyes.
"I am fine," he said, attempting to sit up straighter to prove his words true.
"I never said you were not. I still want you to come here."
He smiled. "I have a termagant for a wife."
"Indeed you do. What kind of wife do you expect a termagant husband to have?"
She wiggled her fingers, silently instructing him to move towards her. He moved next to her, waiting to see what she had in mind. To his surprise, she motioned him to lie down on his side, his back facing her. He did so, and in the next instant, her cool hands were caressing him, kneading his shoulders, massaging a mountain of tension from his muscles.
"You are filled with surprises," he mumbled.
"You would be wise to remember that," she said with a laugh. She leaned down and kissed the tip of his ear, and he felt goose bumps rise on his skin, but it was more likely from her breasts pressing against him. He moved back a fraction, just to feel that delectable sensation once more. He heard her catch her breath. Then she began stroking his hair, weaving it through her fingers, soothing his temples.
"Mmm," he said, though he meant to say something more meaningful, and coherent. But he was cocooned in bliss, feeling Felicia's hands all over his neck, driving out any thoughts other than peacefulness.
He closed his eyes.
~ * ~
"Hugh?"
Felicia halted her fingers, listening to her husband's breathing. It was even, and rhythmic, as though—
"You have fallen asleep!"
She leaned back against the headboard, dazed. She was certain this was not the typical outcome of a wedding night. She reached to shake his shoulder. She was even more tempted to pinch him awake.
At the last second she changed her mind.
She slid down from the bed and slowly headed towards her own bedchamber. When she heard Hugh turn over, she spun around, her heart beating with hopefulness. He was in a very deep slumber, however, and did not know she was departing.
She tiptoed back towards the bed and climbed in behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist. He mumbled something and pulled her arm tighter around him, sighing with genuine contentment.
Felicia placed a kiss on his shoulder. It was a most unusual start to their marriage. She would just have to be patient, until Hugh realized he loved her. He thought her flighty and impetuous, and probably unreliable. She would just show him how wrong he was. She had the patience of a score of saints.
Or at least she planned to.