Passion and Propriety (Hearts of Honour Book 1) (27 page)

“You
do
know what’s going to happen?” Marianne asked, looking over Hannah’s shoulder in the dressing table mirror.

Hannah knew what she hoped
would happen, though the odds were slim.

“I’m not afraid of
that.
” Taking a deep breath, she decided to confide in her new companion. “I’m worried my husband won’t find me appealing.”

To her surprise, Marianne laughed. “Have you seen the way His Lordship looks
at you? You have absolutely nothing to fear.”

Hannah’s hopes swelled. “How does he look at me?”

“Like a man who very much likes what he sees.”

“But he’s only kissed me the once. The day of our betrothal,” Hannah said then flinched at having made such a disclosure.

“That’s because he’s a gentleman, not evidence of lack of interest.” Marianne raised an auburn brow, seeming neither shocked nor offended. “Believe me. I can tell when a man desires a woman, and your viscount has eyes for no other.”

Hannah hoped her maid was correct, for if her courage didn’t fail her, she intended using that desire to help her husband overcome his ethics. Regardless of her resolve, she jumped like a startled rabbit at William’s knock.

Her time was up.

“I’m sure everything will be fine.” Marianne gave her a reassuring smile before opening the door that led to William’s suite then excusing herself with a curtsy.

“Well, that should take care of the servants.” William closed the door behind the departing maid. “I hope I haven’t kept you waiting too—” Coming to a halt a few yards into the room, his jaw dropped. “Good heavens!”

“Is my gown not appropriate? Marianne said it was fitting for my wedding night.” Hannah allowed herself the white lie. Moving to stand beside the bed, she kept her expression guileless as if she wasn’t aware her breasts were clearly delineated by the form-fitting bodice. Both gown and robe were fashioned from the same diaphanous fabric and, with the candelabra positioned strategically behind her, every line and curve of her body was on display. “I hope you don’t mind,” she added.

“No . . . that’s perfectly . . . of course I don’t mind.” William took a deep breath. “You look beautiful,” he said for the second time that day, boosting her confidence.

“Thank you.” Hannah took a moment to appreciate his form in return. Dressed in a long dark robe with his bare legs peeking out the bottom, she thought him very handsome.

“We should sit . . . and talk,” he said, looking around the room, his brow furrowing at the absence of seating.

Hannah had requested the chaise lounge and matching padded chair be moved to her private sitting room, leaving only the velvet-padded stool that sat before her dressing table . . . and the bed.

“I hadn’t thought to keep the chairs in here,” she lied for the second time, her fingers crossed behind her back. “Would you mind if we sat on the bed?”

Hannah hid a smile at William’s audible gulp. Turning, she looked at him over her shoulder and casually brushed her hair back from her face. While she may never have had cause to act in a flirtatious manner before, that didn’t mean she hadn’t observed it on occasion. Her only concern was she might overplay her hand and come off looking foolish. So far, if William’s stunned expression was anything to go by, she seemed to be doing quite well.

There’d been numerous times over the previous weeks when Hannah had reason to doubt her plan. For a while, she’d convinced herself he’d not attempted a repeat of their kiss because he hadn’t enjoyed it the first time. But then she’d been informed otherwise by the memory of his arms wrapped tightly around her while he’d moaned against her mouth. William might not love her the way she loved him, but he desired her, and she was more than willing to use that to further her cause.

Without waiting for his reply, Hannah climbed onto the bed. Scooting to the far side as elegantly as her unladylike behaviour allowed, she sat with her back to the headboard, the pillows propped behind her.

“William?” she prompted when he continued to stand statue-like in the middle of her room.

“Are you sure you don’t mind my joining you?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

“Not at all.” Hannah smiled. “You’re my husband, and it
is
our wedding night. I’m sure some private conversation conducted while seated upon my bed is allowed.”

William barked a laugh. “We both know more than that is
allowed . . .
it’s just not advisable in our case.”

“So you insist,” Hannah muttered.

After moving the pillows to put a little more distance between them, William climbed onto the bed and sat in a position that mirrored hers. Hannah refused to be discouraged, as one had to start somewhere.

“It’s nice to sit back and relax after such a tiring day.” Stretching, she took a deep breath, unsurprised to find William’s gaze directed towards her well-displayed assets. Hannah hadn’t given herself much credit before but was coming to realise there was more to attracting a mate than a girlishly pretty face. A womanly figure didn’t hurt. “What would you like to talk about while we wait?”

“Pardon?” William croaked, dragging a spare pillow across his lap.

His action stirred the memory of the day she’d demonstrated to Dawkins how to massage William’s leg. He’d done the same thing then, but it only just dawned on her why he’d deemed it necessary. It was a good thing the room wasn’t brightly lit, for Hannah feared her cheeks had turned the colour of a tomato. She might have seen and even been required to touch William intimately when he was ill, but she imagined the experience would be quite different when he was in a state of arousal. Realising that on both occasions it had been either her touch or appearance that had caused his body’s response, the breath caught in her throat. Any doubts she’d had as to her desirability where her husband was concerned were completely and thankfully dispelled. He
did
want her. She just had to convince him to act on his inclination.

“How long are you planning to stay before you return to your room?” Hannah asked, needing to know within what time frame she was working.

“Half an hour?”

Her brow furrowed.

“Too long?” William asked after clearing his throat. “I can leave sooner if you like.”

“I would have said too short.” She couldn’t keep the censure from her tone. “You’ll give the servants reason to speak of you disparagingly.”

“Why?” He glanced towards the door, looking bewildered.

“Well, it wouldn’t say much for your sensitivity if you managed to greet, seduce, deflower, and then abandon your new bride all in the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, would it?”

William gaped. “I was advised it is insensitive
to inflict one’s attentions upon one’s wife for too long or too frequently.”

Hannah groaned. “That’s almost as bad as the advice I
was given, but I had the common sense to dismiss it.”

“What advice were you given and by whom?
Please
tell me you weren’t discussing our marital bed with the likes of Ladies Cromley and Wescott?”

“Not by choice.” Hannah secretly gloated at his wording, pleased he was at least considering their marriage bed. “Who told you that nonsense about rushing in and out of here like a bull in a china shop?”

William’s shoulders began to shake, and he put his hand across his mouth.

“What?” she demanded, feigning ignorance as to the source of his humour. If he made a comment about her being the heifer in the china shop, she would not be amused.

“I’d rather not say who advised me to act in a perfunctory manner,” William said when he had himself under control. “But you must tell me what advice you’re ignoring. I’m assuming it’s the pigeon pair of what I received?”

“It sounds like it.” Hannah rolled her eyes. “I was
informed
that while a husband will enjoy claiming his conjugal rights, a wife is to expect pain and humiliation. In fact, if she’s not thoroughly repulsed, enduring stoically out of a sense of duty, she can’t be much of a lady. If the wife, God forbid, should happen to enjoy her husband’s attentions, she’s supposed to deny her feelings and suppress any such inclination.”

“But that’s—”

“Horrid? Hypocritical? Unfair? Unbiblical? Have these people never read Song of Solomon?”

“It certainly explains a few of the miserable tales I’ve been told, not
that I expect you’d have wept hysterically if we had consummated the marriage. You’re far too sensible for such a reaction.”

“Thank you,” Hannah said dryly. As compliments went, she’d had better.

“So,” William said after a few moments passed. “Are you saying if I
were
to claim my conjugal rights, you’d expect to enjoy
the experience?”

“I can’t see why not. I certainly enjoyed our kiss. If there was more kissing involved, and if you weren’t in a dreadful rush”—she eyed him pointedly—“I have a feeling it could be very pleasant.”

William’s eyes widened . . . and
darkened . . .
and his mouth opened and closed several times.
 

“It’s just a pity you’re so opposed to the idea”—Hannah took a deep breath—“even though we’re legally married and perfectly entitled to indulge our passion for one another.”

William choked. It was the perfect response, as she was forced to span the distance between them and pat him on the shoulder. When that didn’t help, she was required to lean all the way across his body to reach the glass of water on the bedside table. She was practically sitting on his lap when she offered it to him.

“Thank you.” He wheezed before taking the glass and downing it in one long swallow.

“Did I say the wrong thing?” Hannah asked after he put the glass aside, his hand trembling. She’d remained kneeling at his side, their thighs touching. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“You didn’t.” His hands came up to grasp her shoulders as if he was holding her in place, not that she had any intention of moving away. “I appreciate your honesty. I just wasn’t expecting you to be so . . . so . . .
honest.
I mean, I had
hoped
you might feel the same way about our kiss—”

“You enjoyed it, too?”

“Of course I enjoyed it.” His thumbs traced circles on her shoulders, and Hannah shivered. With mere inches between them, and despite knowing she ran the risk of truly dreadful rejection, she leaned closer and pressed her lips to William’s. For a long moment, he didn’t move, and it was testament to her determination that she persisted. With a boldness borne of desperation, and no little desire, she skimmed her hands up his chest while moving her mouth against his. It was the same action he’d used when he’d first kissed her, at least she hoped she was remembering correctly. It certainly felt lovely . . . for her. Just when she was about to give up, a wave of mortification rising within her, William wrapped his arms around her, one hand pressing against the middle of her back and the other cupping her neck. His fingers threaded through her hair, angling her head a little further to the side so he could deepen the kiss.

Hannah sagged against him in relief. He wasn’t rejecting her. He was
kissing
her, holding her, and it felt wonderful, sensual, exciting, everything she remembered from the day of their betrothal. She whimpered and wrapped her hands around his shoulders, letting her fingers slide through the silky curls at the nape of his neck. Aligning her body with his more fully, she hugged him close, the action pressing her breasts against the wall of his chest. They both moaned at the contact, and William took advantage of her open mouth to invade it with his tongue.

It was Hannah’s turn to freeze, unsure why he would do such a thing.

William slowed his movements and, fearing he might stop altogether, she tilted her head, urging him to continue. As his tongue stroked softly inside her mouth, Hannah began to understand the appeal of the extraordinary act. She could taste him, the feel of his tongue brushing against her own surprisingly pleasurable. At the same time, his lips moulded to hers, first from one direction and then another, and Hannah lost herself in the wonder of this strange new way of kissing.

When she tentatively stroked his tongue with her own, William moaned again. Encouraged by her response, his hands roamed her back and over her hips, growing bolder as the kiss continued. Happiness welled within her as she realised how powerful her effect was upon him—as powerful as his upon her. Acting more boldly than she’d ever imagined herself doing, Hannah knocked aside the pillow that lay across his thighs and straddled his lap. The position brought them into closer contact, and she felt his aroused member beneath her. Unflinching, she allowed her weight to settle upon him, triggering a wave of heat to pool low in her belly.

A sound erupted from William’s throat, half growl, half moan. To her dismay he broke the kiss, but then he buried his face in the curve of her neck and rocked their bodies together. It felt so good, so right, she pressed against him, holding him close. After a few moments during which he trailed kisses along the curve of her shoulder and neck, his movements slowed. When they stilled altogether, she whimpered again, but this time in frustration.

“Please don’t stop. It feels wonderful.”

“I know.”

His voice sounded deeper than usual . . . guttural . . . raw, and Hannah pulled back. Her weight was resting on his thighs, and she rubbed her hands up and down his arms.