The Sinner (15 page)

Cat frowned. He thought she was crying over something the dowager said? Did his drunkenness make him blind as well as stupid? Perhaps it did. She'd seen what too much wine could do to a man. Although, to be fair, when Stephen was drunk, he would come to her bedchamber and tumble her roughly until he reached satisfaction. Hughe did the opposite, despite the rod prodding her rear. If only he would give in to the urge. If only he wanted her enough to take her before they were wed.

Clearly he didn't, or that erection would have been sated by now. Hughe might like her, he might want to comfort her when she was upset, or protect her when she was in danger, but he did not want more. He did not return her love.

His breathing deepened. His hard chest rose and fell against her back to an even, steady rhythm. His manhood deflated and the arm circling her grew heavy. He was asleep.

Cat closed her eyes and tried to sleep too, but her aching heart kept her awake for some time. She must have succumbed eventually, because the next thing she knew her maids were rousing her and Hughe was gone.

It was their wedding day.

***

The wedding of Lord Oxley was held in the family chapel in the presence of the groom's intimate friends, some neighboring farmers, a few villagers and the higher servants. The lack of nobility was noted, but everyone there chose to dismiss it as inevitable since the marriage happened quickly. The ceremony itself was a somber affair, but the revelry at the feast afterward made up for it.

By the end of the day, when it was time for the bride and groom to retire to their chambers, many of the villagers, farmers and servants were dead drunk in Oxley House's great hall. Some had fallen asleep under the table, or out in the garden since it was a lovely evening. The village alderman still sat at the table, his head on his trencher, snoring into a pile of pheasant bones. The dowager countess had picked her way around them earlier in the afternoon and disappeared with her ladies into a quieter part of the house, displeasure written over her face. It was rumored that she was displeased with more than just the drunks, however. The lack of noble guests, for one thing, and her son's choice of bride for another.

But her stern countenance didn't put a dampener on the event. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves, and if anyone noticed that Lord Oxley's friends remained sober, they didn't care. If anyone noticed the new bride's sad eyes as she looked up at her husband, they didn't say so. What they did comment upon was how pretty she looked in her wedding gown. Prior to that day, most of her dresses had been too large for such a slight figure, but the blue satin gown fit her like a glove and showed off her tiny waist.

The couple was sent upstairs with a bawdy song that roused the drunks and would have made the dowager countess's lips purse if she'd still been there. The new Lord and Lady Oxley waved at their guests from the landing, then Lord Oxley picked up his new bride and with a "Whoop," carried her out of sight.

Hughe set Cat down on her feet just inside her bedchamber and shut the door on the cheering crowd. "They'll quieten soon," he said with an apologetic smile.

Cat had hoped to be taken to his rooms, but it would seem he preferred to bed her in hers. She still resided in the guest chambers, where she'd been since her arrival. His mother was yet to move out of the mistress's apartments. Cat didn't mind. She liked these rooms. They were closer to Hughe's.

"At least we're alone," she said. The maids had been given the night off, their beds tucked away. They'd lit enough candles to see by and strewn extra lavender among the rush matting. The bed covers were turned down, inviting.

"Do you need help undressing?" he asked.

She turned her back to him. "There are pins there," she said, pointing to her lower back where skirt met bodice. "If you wouldn't mind."

He unpinned her. The skirt, underskirt and forepart fell away. He collected the items and the sleeves she handed him and carried them into her wardrobe.

"Did you enjoy the feast?" he asked, returning. His gaze didn't quite focus on her, but a little past her, as if he couldn't even look at her. This was going to a tortuous coupling then.

"I did," she said. "The food was plentiful and delicious. Your friends and their wives are a delight. I'm so glad they came, and that the Monks will be staying. I know I'm going to get along with Elizabeth."

"They all like you," he said, standing before her. "Do you need help with the bodice?"

"No, thank you." She untied the laces down her front and separated the two pieces. He took them from her and carried them into the wardrobe too. She stood in her long shirt and slipped off her shoes. Hughe helped her with the necklace he'd presented to her that morning. It was an exquisite gold chain with a large oval sapphire at the center and smaller sapphires at intervals along the chain. She hadn't noticed until he'd taken her hand in the chapel that the sapphire ring he always wore was missing. It was then that she realized the gem now occupied the center of her new necklace.

She removed the matching earrings that he'd also given her that morning, and the rings. The jewels were a sharp reminder that she had done very well out the union and he'd fared poorly. She'd brought nothing of value to the marriage.

"Would you like me to disrobe before you remove your shirt?" he asked.

"I think that would be best."

It was all too formal, too awkward, too wrong. She wanted him to tear at her clothes, eager to see the package inside. She would have settled for a gentle unlacing. She hated this passionless process, as if he were ticking off each garment from a list. There was no desire in his voice, no heat in his eyes, not even an erection. Unlike the previous night. Clearly he only desired her when he was too drunk to see properly.

At first she didn't watch as he removed his clothes, but then she decided he was her husband and she had a right to see him naked. She
wanted
to see him naked. She wasn't sure how many more opportunities she would get. By all accounts, he was rarely home.

He shed his doublet, jerkin, shoes and breeches, and, like her, stood in only his shirt. He gathered up the sides and drew it over his head without further ado. He stood there, entirely, gloriously naked, the shirt bunched in his hand. Her breath escaped in a
whoosh
. Her heart tripped over itself. She'd never seen a man like Hughe before. To put it baldly, her new husband was as magnificent as any life-sized statue of a god. Muscles corded across his shoulders and rippled down his arms. The skin looked as smooth as marble, but golden, not pale. A sprinkling of hair the same shade as that on his head covered his broad chest and arrowed down his torso to his manhood, jutting out from its nest.

Cat blushed to the roots of her hair. He hadn't been aroused when he'd first removed his shirt, but after her admiring gaze, his member came alive. Perhaps it needed attention to get started. It hadn't last night.

She removed her own shirt and took some time to fold it and set it neatly aside, giving her time to cool down. By the time she turned to face him, she was more composed. She was no innocent maiden and it wouldn't do to act like one. It took great force of will not to cover her body up, but she managed it.

He wasn't looking anyway. He moved to the bed and sat with his long, muscular legs crossed at the ankles. A white, ridged scar ran the entire length of his thigh. The wound must have hurt when it had been fresh. Finally, he lifted his gaze to hers. He did not look at her breasts or any other part of her. Only her face. He held out his hand. "Come here, Lady Oxley."

She took his hand and knelt on the bed beside him. It had been almost a year since she'd made love to a man. Lord Slade had not come to her in the last months of his life, preferring his mistress's company. He'd given up on getting Cat with child and it would seem he'd lost his taste for her too.

"Tell me what you like," she said. "Tell me how to please you."

"Do whatever pleases you," he said, still smiling as if he were listening to a polite conversation.

What pleased
her
? That wasn't what coupling was about. It was about the man's pleasure, so that he could plant his seed inside her. She would simply enjoy the intimacy of being close to him, holding him and being claimed by him.

A small frown lined his forehead and a kernel of panic punctured her chest. What was she doing wrong? She lay down, her hands by her sides, yet he didn't move to cover her with his body. Perhaps he preferred it the other way. She went to roll over, but he placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Cat." His thumb gently stroked her in slow circles. His gaze focused on it, but it was bland and not at all heated with desire. His member had deflated again too. Her nakedness didn't appeal to him. "Cat, did your husband never see to your pleasure?"

"I don't want to discuss him. You are my husband now."

He blew out a breath. "My apologies. I don't want to upset you."

"You're not upsetting me." She sat up and his gaze lowered to her chest. She placed a hand across her breasts and not for the first time wished they were larger so she could display them proudly. His gaze shifted away to the bed. He couldn't even look at her.

Tears stung her eyes. It was all falling apart. Her dream husband, her dream house and life…it was over before it had really begun.

But she wouldn't give up so easily. She
had
to secure him as soon as possible. A marriage wasn't solid until it was consummated. She would consummate it this night if she had to turn somersaults to do it.

She shuffled across the bed and extinguished one of the candles.

"Good idea," he muttered, putting out the others. The room was as dark as a moonless night. Even when her eyes adjusted, she could only make out his shape and not his features.

It would be easier for him to do his duty if he couldn't see her pathetic body. To her utter relief, he touched her. First her shoulder, as if he were searching for her in the dark, then down past the curve of her breast to her waist. His light fingers skimmed across her skin, sending a wave of tingles skittering in their wake.

"Silky," he said on a breath. "You have beautiful skin, Cat."

Oh yes, putting out the candles had been an excellent idea.

His hand traveled up her middle and cupped her breast. She expected him to sigh with disappointment and move on, but he didn't. He thrummed her nipple with his thumb, teasing it to a point. Heat throbbed in her veins, spreading to every inch of her body. Exquisite tension rose, tightened, curled. She wanted more of it, yet it drove her mad. She would surely lose her mind if he continued.

She moaned and was shocked at her wantonness. She moved away, suddenly ashamed. Stephen had never paid her breasts any attention, except for when he'd first seen them.
He
had sighed with disappointment. After that, he simply ignored them.

"Don't," Hughe said, voice thick. "Come here. I want to touch your nipples."

She kept out of his reach and covered her breasts again, even though he couldn't see her in the dark. "Why?"

"Why?" he echoed, sounding confused. "Why wouldn't I?"

Was he teasing her? Was this his way of pointing out her deficiencies? "Because they're small. Boyish, so I've been told."

He laughed softly and her heart sank further. Tears hovered close. "Cat," he murmured, "I've never seen a boy with such plump, ripe nipples before."

"I'm not talking about the nipples, I—"

He was suddenly right there, kissing her, swallowing her protest. But he ended it too soon. He took both her hands in one of his and gently drew them behind her back. And then her left nipple became wet. He was licking it! She tried to squirm away, but he didn't allow her to move, trapped as she was. His tongue circled her nipple, teasing it to a point. Then he drew it into his warm mouth and suckled. If his touch sent tingles washing through her, his mouth drove her to the edge of a precipice. She wouldn't have cared if she fell into it. She
wanted
to. Her mind filled with him, only thoughts of him, and her body was alive like it had never been before.

She arched into him, wanting him to keep going, to suckle the other nipple. She wanted to tell him that she liked it very much, but the words wouldn't form. Her head had turned to mush, yet her body was alert like never before. Every lick of his tongue brought her closer to the edge, and then he would retreat, giving her time to step back and recover, only to close his mouth over the nipple entirely and nip it with his teeth.

Maddening.

She was wet for him, throbbed for him. "Hughe," she whimpered. She wanted to tell him to take her, but she couldn't speak. He finally let her hands go, but instead of covering herself, she reached down to his member. Her fingers circled the smooth, ridged shaft, so thick and long.

He sucked air between his teeth and let it out on a groan. She smiled. This night was going to be wonderful after all.

Hughe cursed silently. This night was not going to plan at all. Cat was a siren and he was helplessly drawn to her. When she'd removed her shirt he thought his cock would explode. Her body was everything he'd imagined it to be. Better. Her narrow waist exaggerated the swell of her hips and rear, and her nipples…dear lord, her nipples were the color of ripe cherries and just as plump. He couldn't resist taking one in his mouth and tasting it. Her response swelled his cock even more.

He had hoped extinguishing the candles would help him maintain composure while he performed his husbandly duty. Surely if he couldn't see her eyes, he wouldn't lose himself in them. But he hadn't counted on her breathy reaction to his suckling, hadn't expected her to open herself to him, be so wet for him. Nor could he have known that simply touching her would make him harder than he'd ever been. She had the body of a nymph, and she was using it to bring him near release. And he'd not even entered her yet.

"Take me," she whispered. "Take me, husband." She guided his cock to her opening. She was hot and moist and he ached to enter her. Even more than that, he wanted to hear her cry his name in ecstasy. He wanted her to know what pure, deep pleasure felt like. He wanted to be the one to show her.