Chapter Seven

Later that night

A fter the rather candid and introductory talk in Hyde Park, some of Hattie's anxiety regarding her new husband had eased, but she was still plagued by nerves.

She admired how he'd told her it was his duty to protect her now that she had wed him even though neither of them had wanted the match, and once they'd returned to her parents' home, she and the captain took breakfast alone, for everyone had already departed and gone about their days.

With nothing else to do following the meal, Simon directed that her luggage be taken over to his townhouse across Mayfair. Then after she'd said goodbye to her parents, he'd escorted her into his closed carriage and together they went to what would be their nuptial home.

Everything had been a whirlwind upon stepping through the door. The housekeeper had taken custody of her and showed her about the townhouse, introduced her to every member of the staff, and finally oversaw Hattie being settled into what she called the bridal suite, but in reality, it was merely a suite of rooms on the opposite end of the third-floor corridor from where the captain resided.

To be fair, it had been decorated with a woman in mind. All upholstery, draperies, and wallpaper were in varying shades of moss green, peach, and ivory. It was a peaceful space, all light and airy which should provide her the calm she desperately needed, except it was hers merely because she'd been forced to marry a stranger.

Yet here, there were no parents to frown and sigh and claim disappointment or badger her about doing things she didn't wish to.

As such things do, after a nap taken in a remarkably comfortable bed, she ordered dinner sent up on a tray, but her appetite wasn't huge, probably due to the butterflies dancing through her lower belly. Now there was no more time to delay. It was her wedding night, and since he hadn't mentioned having a marriage in name only, she assumed he wished to consummate the union.

But she didn't want to. At least not immediately. Having a husband was a very different beast than sharing kisses and caresses with random handsome men in shadowy corners or the mews. Plus, this was forever, and what if she and the captain weren't attracted to each other once clothes came off? She wasn't exactly slim or willowy as was the type of woman popular in the ton these days.

Truthfully, without having scandal as a goal, there wasn't a driving force to tease him, regardless that she'd briefly kissed him in the park earlier.

What is happening to me?

A soft tap at the door adjoining her bedchamber with the dressing room had her pulse accelerating. Surely, he'd not come so early. But when her maid came into the space, she sighed with relief. It was good her mother let the maid come with Hattie, for it was comforting to have someone familiar nearby. "Did you need something, Mary?"

"I came to help you dress for bed, my lady." In her arms was a pretty night gown and matching robe made of ivory muslin trimmed with ivory lace and thin pink satin ribbons. "I found this wrapped in tissue paper in one of your trunks. Perhaps your mother tucked it in there for you and thought you might want to wear it."

To entice my new husband?

"I suppose I'll need to wear something to sleep in." Which only caused more knots of worry to pull in her belly, but she submitted to her maid's ministrations.

A half hour later, she'd been dressed, her hair freshly brushed. Mary had left the length long and the sides held back with tortoiseshell combs. As Hattie peered at herself in the cheval glass, she had to admit the dainty, fussy ensemble made her rounder form seem sensual and pretty. Though the bodice was a touch lower than she was comfortable with, and she knew her mother had taken Mrs. Dove-Lyon's advice about that, it was too late to fret over it. The captain would either grow to adore her body or he wouldn't.

And perhaps she would discover why every woman she'd talked with was nearly throwing themselves at the captain's feet over his form.

"You will enchant Captain Huxley tonight, my lady." A blush raged in Mary's cheeks as she applied a few light dabs of the perfume that smelled like lilies of the valley to various points on Hattie's person. "Is there anything else you will need before I retire?"

Courage? Something to distract her anger? A place to scream out her frustration?

Instead, Hattie shook her head. "Nothing, thank you." Then she frowned. "Ah, do you happen to know the captain's whereabouts? I thought when I didn't go down to dinner, he would have said something at that time." Did that mean he wouldn't visit her bed tonight?

"I couldn't say, my lady. I haven't seen him since you both arrived here around teatime."

"Then I would say I won't have need of your services for the remainder of the night." Would the servants gossip when the bed linens were gathered tomorrow afternoon and they saw unmistakable evidence she was not, in fact, an innocent any longer? At least it would put to rest some of the more vicious rumors that she was little better than a courtesan.

The younger woman nodded. "Ring if you change your mind." Concern reflected in her eyes. "I've heard the captain is a good man in all aspects of his life. You are lucky."

"Perhaps I am. There are many worse off women out there than me." Mrs. Dove-Lyon could have chosen a horrible man from a menagerie of Lyons since her mother had said any man would do, so there was a good possibility the captain might eventually worm his way beneath her skin.

Might.

"Well, good night, my lady," Mary said before retreating into the adjoining dressing room and then presumably exiting out that door.

With a sigh, Hattie climbed into her bed and drew a novel toward her over the crisp counterpane. Shortly before her nuptial ceremony, she'd slipped out to the booksellers and combed through their collections until she'd found a few of the more scandalous books her mother never allowed her to read. Now that she was a married woman, there was a certain freedom in knowing she could spend her time as she pleased, and one of the things she loved best was escaping her world through reading.

When the carriage style clock on her mantle softly chimed the midnight hour, she sighed and set aside her book that she couldn't concentrate on anyway. Where the devil was her husband? Anticipation twisted with anxiety down her spine, but the longer she waited, the more he didn't come for a visit.

"If this is to be my life, I want this first hurdle over and done with." Outside of the fleeting kiss she'd given him earlier that afternoon, they hadn't shared any romantic gestures, but if the man was as skilled in kissing or caresses as he'd said, tonight might indeed be lovely. Once she stopped overthinking everything.

Quickly slipping from her bed, she shivered when the soles of her feet connected with the hardwood floor, but since she couldn't find her slippers in the dark, she left her room without them. After softly closing her door, Hattie padded along the corridor and at the captain's door, she raised a hand, knocking quickly and quietly before her nerve left her. Even though she didn't receive an invitation to enter, she did so anyway, and once she closed that door behind her, she paused to let her eyes adjust to the dim light within.

A lone candle guttered in a brass holder on the bureau top, and the dancing light cast weird and moving shadows along the walls, but as she moved further into the very masculine space, an odd sense of connection filled her.

This was the captain's private sanctuary, and he wasn't in residence. No, she hadn't wished to wait for him to come to her, and the events of the last few days exhausted her, but here in this bedchamber, it was much like a hideaway from the world. She covered a yawn with a hand as she approached a large, four-poster bed dressed in a counterpane bearing navy, maroon, and a light blue color scheme. Here and there, golden thread glimmered in the candlelight, and it was but one clue as to his financial security.

Throwing a glance about the room, she took in a comfortable-looking leather winged-back chair, a pile of books on the floor near the book, a bureau and a few shelves in a polished walnut wood. Two ivory-inlaid tables waited, and one held a crystal glass with a trace of brandy at the bottom. Oriental rugs with the same colors protected her feet from the cold floor. A battered trunk waited at the foot of the bed with a folded quilt on top.

Clearly, he was a man who knew what he wanted, and some of the bric-a-brac on the shelves seemed as if they came from over the world, no doubt from his travels with the navy.

The stories he must have! Knots of worry pulled through her belly. But unless she missed her guess, the captain kept secrets from her, she was sure, but of what she didn't know. Would he tell her? Would it require teasing on her part?

With another yawn, Hattie eased back the counterpane and sheet then she climbed up into the bed and snuggled into the bedclothes and the down-filled pillows. They were as comfortable as her own. So where was he? The brandy suggested he'd recently been there, as did the scent of his cologne that lingered on the air. Did he spend his evenings at a club, or did he keep a mistress after demanding her fidelity?

There were so many questions she wanted to ask him, especially because there was something about him, the way he held his head, how he gestured with his hands, at times how his voice rumbled through her chest that gave her pause. Why was he so familiar and why couldn't she place it?

More to the point, was he the man, the lion, she kept dreaming about? Perhaps she should withhold that question until the morning to see if she might dream about him tonight.

Another yawn overtook her. When she thought about it, today had been rather long and fraught with emotions. She would wait here for the captain, rest her eyes for a while, then they would talk.

Some time later, Hattie jolted awake when someone slid into the bed beside her. When she gasped, he laid a hand on her arm.

"Easy. It is only me. Your husband."

My husband. How odd that sounded yet there was a surprising degree of comfort there too. Shadows cloaked the room; the scents of candlewax and smoke permeated the air as if he'd extinguished the light recently. "What time is it?" Sleep graveled her voice.

"When I came up, the longcase clock downstairs declared the two o'clock hour."

"Ah."

"Why are you in my bed?"

It was too dark in the room to see his eye or face, so reading his emotions was beyond her ken at the moment. Heat sank into her cheeks. "I grew weary of waiting for you to visit my suite, so I came here, to get the task over with."

"When you say it that way, is there any wonder I'm not over there tearing off your clothing?" Annoyance rumbled through his voice.

She bit back the urge to smile, but the heat of him called out to her. "I only meant I am having some anxiety regarding this coupling, and I thought that once it passed…"

"I understand." He laid to the left of her, which meant that side of him with the eyepatch was right there.

"Good." When she reached out to touch his arm but instead her fingertips encountered his chest and the mat of hair there, she gasped. "Are you naked?"

"I am not. When I discovered you in my bed, I gave thought to your sensibilities and donned a pair of breeches.

"Oh." Sensibilities after she'd already admitted to scandals. Cold disappointment circled through her belly. Still, if she wanted to explore his form, would she let him? Then she frowned. Of course, she was here in his bed, so there would be more to it than that.

"Fear not. I am not in the habit of taking women by force, so stop looking at me with fear in the backs of your eyes. I can see them glittering in the darkness." The timbre of his voice continued to bring her comfort. "Before we do anything, I will wish to hear you give permission."

"How interesting. I assumed a man like you would want to immediately bed his wife."

"Considering you know nothing about me nor I you, that was erroneous."

"Right." She relaxed, but slightly. "We won't consummate the union?"

"Not tonight, but eventually, yes. Only when you're ready."

"Ah." Though she was relieved, a bit of a pout pulled at the corners of her lips, for she might have liked smoothing her palms over that wide expanse of chest or exploring the different textures of his skin with her lips where his stubble ended, and his neck began. "Well, thank you."

"Regardless of how our marriage came about, there is still decorum and honor. These things were ingrained into me long ago, and they have shaped my life since." Bedclothes rustled. "If you want to sleep here, I can either leave or I'll give my word to leave you untouched."

Discovering that he was gallant had her thoughts tripping over themselves in her mind. "I would like to stay. At least for a bit." As a gesture of goodwill, Hattie moved a bit closer to him until her shoulder brushed his chest, for he lounged on his side. "Is that acceptable to you?"

"It is." Then he rested a large hand on her belly, and she nearly vaulted off the bed at the sudden charge of energy that zipped through her veins. "Are you sleepy?"

"Not any longer." How could anyone drift into slumber when such a large man occupied the bed next to them? Especially when he was warm, and his presence filled the room, and his skin smelled so delicious?

"Why don't you tell me about your family, your parents, or your childhood? In that way, I can come to know you better."

Hattie marveled that a man would rather talk in bed than find out what was under her clothing. It was surprising but hopeful. "Well, there isn't much to tell. My parents have been married for thirty-two years. I have an older brother who will take the title, and an older sister who married well and has three children."

"Which has probably been thrown in your face as something to aspire to, I'll wager," he said in a soft voice that was stolen by the darkness.

"Oh, yes. I love my mother, but she is never satisfied with the person I am instead of who she wants me to be." For a few moments, she concentrated on the weight of his hand on her belly while the muscles tightened with anticipation. "During my formative years, I was taught to be a proper, good girl, trained to be the perfect wife and mother, shown how to keep a house of varying sizes. However, through tutors and governesses and reading, I began to see there was more to the world than what was expected to occupy." Her chin quivered, and to her mortification, tears welled in her eyes. "I came to believe that I wasn't born to only be those things. I want more than the avenues open to women in our world."

Where she thought he would lecture her as so many other men had done in the past, he merely slipped his fingers to her hip and gently, slowly drew her closer. "Such as?"

Her senses spun. How could she be expected to concentrate when he was so near? "Uh, I haven't given it thought, but I know it's not this."

"This as in our marriage, or the fact of marrying anyone?"

"Anyone," she managed to gasp out while running her fingers along his arm and to his shoulder. Good lord, the hardness of his muscles was both shocking and exciting. Damn the darkness that hid him from her. In all truthfulness, she should tell him about her dreams, but she couldn't bear to see the pity in his eyes or have him think her mad.

The fingers at her hip drummed a steady rhythm. "When did you stop believing in love and romance?"

It was too early in their relationship to reveal that she'd been jilted at the altar and why, so she shrugged. "It wasn't one thing, I suppose, for my parents love each other. I have many friends who are married but don't seem enamored of their husbands or wives. They are living obligations not authentic lives." Eddies of sadness and ire swept through her body. "Suffice it to say, the world is a messy place, Captain. There is far too much ugliness everywhere and it hurts my heart too much. Perhaps I can't suspend disbelief long enough to contemplate the concept of love." That was the most honest she'd been with anyone in her life. "It is rather disappointing as well, and I'm not sure I wish to open myself up to that again."

"I'm sorry, but Lady Harriet you must know—"

"Hattie."

"What?"

"I am only Hattie. I detest my real name, and there is no need for you to use my title."

"Then you may refer to me as Simon. Captain is far too formal for us, I think." A bit of laughter escaped him that glided over her skin like a melody, and the exquisiteness of the sound had the power to tighten her nipples. "Since it wasn't clear earlier this afternoon, I'll ask again. Have you ever been in love?"

"Yes." She nodded but doubted he could see the gesture. "I was engaged once."

"Oh? I had no idea." Silence reigned for a few moments. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"I do not. At least not now."

"Fair enough." Again, he drummed his fingers on her hip. "Perhaps it's good that you and I met."

"Why?" Clearly, she was in danger of losing herself in the moment, and she needed to keep her wits about her, for he was a lion, wasn't he?

"I believe in love but have never had that for myself, so perhaps between us, we can meet in the middle ground."

"Meaning?" The word sounded tugged from a tight throat.

"Meaning there are many little milestones we can meet together on the way to wherever we are going." Then he cupped her cheek, and she snuggled into that large palm, for there was something about him that both calmed and aroused her. In the gloom, he stared down into her face, met one of her eyes with his, and for a long time he searched her face as if looking for a sign or truth. Did she want him to find it? "And in the journey, perhaps we will discover what the two of us are missing in our lives currently, for that would be the height of a successful marriage. For now, I'm going to kiss you. Is that all right?"

"Yes." When had she become a woman who couldn't think of more to say than one-word answers?

"Thank you." The captain slipped a hand around her nape and another to her hip. He pulled her close to his body, and then equally as slowly, while she trembled, he claimed her lips with his.

It was as lovely as she'd hoped it would be, much more impactful than the frantic and rushed kisses she'd shared with other men in the pursuit of scandal or while avoiding detection.

His lips cradled hers as gently as his large hand held the back of her head. For such an imposing man, his kiss was a tender introduction, and he moved his mouth over hers, allowing her to become acquainted with him, giving her time to make a decision, telling her without words who he was and what sort of man she could expect.

Sensation shuddered down her spine, for in that one kiss there was a hidden promise. Of what she didn't know, wouldn't dare to think for she had long ago lost faith in love and romance, but it was wonderful to feel it glimmering there in the far recesses of her mind, waiting. Almost timidly, as if had to learn how to kiss a man all over again, Hattie mimicked what he did, content in following his lead. In this, there was no need to take the initiative or seek exhibitionism. That unexpected connection was simply lovely. And she couldn't have enough. With a murmur of consent, she slipped her hands up from where they rested on his bare chest to loop about the breadth of his strong shoulders. The captain moved slightly to settle her more comfortably in his embrace, and the feel of those muscled arms around her was quite thrilling.

Now she understood why ladies nearly swooned when talking about him.

Then the pattern shifted, almost indiscernibly. Captain Huxley nibbled at the corners of her mouth; he lightly nipped her bottom lip, waiting for her reaction. Unexpected pleasure speared through her, zipped from her breasts to between her thighs.

"Ooh!" She stilled to make sense of that nuance, and when he chuckled, a sea of sensation washed over her. This man truly did know how to kiss, and it went beyond the mere press of lips against the other.

His eyebrow arched in question, his breath warming her cheek, waiting much like he had in that dream she'd had, and when she gave him a nod, he claimed her lips again.

This time the introductions were finished, and the mood of the embrace changed. The captain drew the tip of his tongue across the expanse of her bottom lip. Tingles went through her lower belly, for it was both naughty and sweet at the same time, and much more compelling than the sloppy kisses from other men. He kissed her with such leisure, as if he had all the time in the world, that she was easily lost and did her best to return that overture. Not that it was a chore, for she'd become quickly addicted to the feel of his hard body against hers, the slight taste of mint on his mouth, the softness of his hair as it glided through her fingers at his nape.

So easy was it to forget what had occurred to them both the day before when they were forced to wed by manipulation, merely at the whim of a gaming hell owner.

Then he encouraged her lips to part, and as confusion and anticipation warred for dominance, he touched the tip of his tongue to hers, and her world tilted again. Satin slid against silk, encouraging her to learn the new rhythm he set, but this was so much more erotic than she could ever dream.

Dear God, he is quite potent!

The thrill of dueling with his tongue kept her breathless, but it was the solid warmth of him she couldn't have enough of, and she didn't know which part of him to explore by being enchanted by this kiss.

Before she could grow complacent, once more, the mood of the embrace shifted, and he returned to kissing her gently and leisurely without the deepness they'd just shared. She didn't care, for it was as wonderful, and she couldn't wait to go through the whole gambit again. True to his word, the captain didn't demand anything from her even as the hard evidence of his desire pressed insistently against her hip.

For a long time, Hattie was lost to exploring his lips, to dragging her lips beneath the sharp cut of his jaw, to letting her fingers drift down the length of his back without dissent from the captain. However, he did the same, and each pass, every feather-weighted kiss and nip under her jaw or tiny little lick he gave beneath her earlobe or on the side of her neck sent her tumbling toward a shimmering edge, of what she couldn't fathom, yet again, she returned to his lips, finally pulling away with a sigh for that kiss had left her fully content.

And desperate for more despite the continued trepidation.

She planted a palm against his chest, and ignoring that particular distraction, said, "I should go back to my room." Her whisper sounded overly loud in the silence of the room.

"You are welcome to remain here." He released her and put space between them. "I will not molest you and will be a gentleman."

"Oh?"

The captain nodded. "This marriage is yours as much as it's mine, so we won't go forward carnally unless you wish it. Kisses will suffice for a time."

Warmth filled her chest, and she nodded. "I appreciate that." Scooting back to her side of the bed, she rolled to her side with her back to him. "Goodnight, Captain."

"Simon, remember."

"Right." She had forgotten. "Goodnight, Simon. Thank you for the kiss and concession." Her life had suddenly changed and shifted, and quite frankly, she didn't know what to think of any of it, for he wasn't anything as she'd assumed.

Was it an act, a fa?ade to win her compliance?

"Goodnight, Hattie. Sleep well."

Then silence reigned, but it was rather lovely to know she wasn't alone in it.