Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

H annah ate her supper alone. It was her wedding night, and there she sat by herself at the dining table, wondering why she had even bothered to get dressed and come down, to begin with.

Oh, and she had gotten dressed, too. Having been covered in flowers and dirt earlier, she bathed and chose an appropriate dress to dine in. One that was not too scandalous—for she had expected to have supper with both Frederick and Amelia—but one that she hoped Frederick would appreciate, nonetheless.

And yet, when she arrived at supper, she was informed that Frederick was still with his daughter in her room and that she should start without him, for he was not certain when, or if, he would be able to join her.

At first, Hannah was angry. Even furious. After how hard she had tried with Amelia, the least Frederick could have done was return the favor by putting in some effort. She had made a promise, and she had kept it, proving that she could behave, so there was no reason for him not to join her. And even if Amelia was refusing to come down, surely he could have just left her in her room?

But then Hannah started to think, and when she did, she came to realize something, and when she realized this something, she could not help but smile.

She was starting to get to him.

Oh, she had felt a connect after Amelia had pushed her into the flowerbed. She had seen the look in Frederick’s eyes, the hunger in them, similar to the last time they were in the garden together. He had wanted her at that moment and, in an effort to deny himself, he had fled and then stayed away because even he was not so self-disciplined as that.

Hannah was starting to break through his walls, and thus she decided that tonight she would give it one final try. Her wedding night—a night that she and her husband should be spending together, a night that would not end until she proved to both of them that there was more to this marriage than the potential for mere friendship.

It was once she had finished her supper, and after having a few glasses of wine to steel her nerves, that Hannah made her way silently through the house and toward her private quarters. She had been assigned a separate chamber, but tonight that would not be needed.

On the way, she stopped outside Amelia’s room and listened at the door, hearing the little girl and her father speaking. At that moment, she came to a decision—she headed to Frederick’s room, not hers. He would not be expecting her. His guard would be down. And then, she would pounce.

His room was warm when she entered it, the fire roaring in the hearth, bathing the room in hues of orange and red. Her dress tonight was another strapless piece but with a high neckline, and she had chosen to wear gloves. Hannah took off her gloves and undid her hair, letting it fall down to her shoulders as she sat on the edge of his bed, faced the door, and waited.

And waited… and waited. Her heart pounded as the minutes ticked by. Her resolve was wavering. Was she really doing this? Was she really going to take this chance? The potential for embarrassment and mortification was extreme.

To keep herself calm, to remind herself that this was a good idea, she thought back to that moment in the garden earlier and the look in Frederick’s eyes. And before that, the kiss they had shared at the altar. And before that, the near kiss in the garden at Ramsbury House. So many near misses, so many indications of the fire that simmered between them whenever they were alone together.

This was a good idea. It was the right idea. And if Frederick was not going to take the chance and act, then it would fall on her shoulders. What did a wedding night truly entail? What was supposed to happen? Hannah had no idea, but she was excited to find out.

And finally, after close to an hour of waiting, the door popped open, and Frederick walked inside.

Not paying attention, he closed the door behind him, shaking his head to himself as if frustrated, and then began to unbutton his shirt. Hannah watched him do so, licking her lips, heart now racing as his shirt came undone and he moved his hands toward his pants…

Only to freeze, for finally he looked up and saw her sitting there, watching him.

“Hannah!” he stammered, taking a surprised step back. “What are you doing here? In my room?”

“Please, do not stop on my account.” She gestured toward his hands, which were still hovering over his pants. “Things were just getting interesting.”

He leveled her with a glare. “I ask again, what are you doing in my room?”

She snorted. “Do you need me to explain, or do you think you can figure that out on your own?”

“I thought we had an agreement.”

“We do,” she said innocently. “And from what I can see, your daughter is nowhere in sight.”

“My daughter has nothing to do with it. Regardless, we spoke about this already. Or do you need me to tell you again?”

He was angry, she could tell. Or at least he was trying to be. And she very nearly shrank under that anger. The glare he fixed her with was hotter than the flames in the fireplace. Truly, a part of her wondered if he might grab her by the arm and drag her out of his room. Only… well, that would require him to touch her.

“Tell me,” she said, keeping her voice level. Sitting on his bed still, facing him, she leaned back slightly and then… spread her legs. “I seem to have forgotten.”

Frederick swallowed as he saw her legs part. For a moment, he seemed to forget what he was about to say, his mouth hanging open, a look on his face that she recognized well by now. But then he gave his head a shake.

“This marriage is?—”

“For convenience only, I know.”

He narrowed his eyes. “And seeing as it is, as I told you, I will not touch you. And I would appreciate it if you would respect my wishes.”

“Why?”

He blinked. “Why would I like you to respect my wishes?”

“No,” she sighed. “Why do you refuse to touch me? It has just occurred to me that through all of this, you have never given me a good reason.”

“I—” He bit his tongue and gathered himself. “My reasons are my own.”

“But they concern me.”

“I do not have to explain myself to you.”

“And I do not have to leave your room if I do not wish it. I am your wife, after all.” She cocked an eyebrow at him. “This room is as much mine as it is yours.”

“You’re really not going to leave?”

“I would ask if you might drag me out, but that would require you to touch me…” A wicked smirk. “Which I know you will not do.”

“Do not tempt me.”

He took a step toward her, and her breath caught in her throat with the thrill, the sense that he was about to grab her.

“Go on, then.” She waggled her eyebrows at him, daring him to do it. Still leaning back, she pushed her chest out, spread her legs further—made herself totally vulnerable. “Do it.”

“I…” He hesitated.

She could see his resolve wavering. Oh, until now, Hannah had been certain that her husband wanted her and was only stopping himself for reasons she could not imagine. But now, she knew it. Not a doubt in her mind about the matter. And, like a deck of cards, one small push was all it would take.

Her heart hammered in her chest. Sweat began to bead on her exposed skin. She was nervous, yes. Terrified of what might happen if she went too far. But she was here now, her husband was alone with her, and nothing would stop her.

“You want to, don’t you?”

“Throw you out? More than anything.”

“No…” She tittered and fixed him with a sensual look, licked her lips, and purred. “Not that.”

He stood with his shirt open, the flickering firelight accentuating the hard planes of his chest. His hands were on his pants now, and she looked at them as if doing so might make his pants fall away. A suggestive look at his crotch, so he could see what was on her mind.

“I… I told you…” He took a step closer to her. “I will not touch you.”

“Then leave,” she dared. “I cannot stop you.”

“This is my room.”

“Then stay. I do not mind.”

A step closer. Her breathing became labored. Her lips parted. It was happening. She knew in her soul that it was.

He stood less than five feet away from her. His eyes roved over her, traveling from her legs to her waist to her breasts to her lips. She could sense his inner turmoil… and the decision he was coming to.

“I made a promise to never touch you.”

“Promises are made to be broken.”

“But…” He licked his lips.

“Yes?”

“I—” A deep breath, his body shaking. “I never said anything about you touching yourself.”

Hannah frowned and leaned back, caught off guard by a comment she did not wholly understand. “I do not… I am not sure what you?—”

“Tell me, wife,” he growled as he took a step closer, “do I arouse you?”

She swallowed, her cheeks suddenly flushing, the reality of the moment hitting her. “Y-yes. Yes, you do.”

“How much?”

“I…” Her mind scrambled for an answer. “More than I knew was possible.”

“Show me, then.” He stopped two feet away, his arms crossed. He looked down at her and cocked an eyebrow. “Well?”

Now it was her turn to feel confused.

“I do not… What do you mean? I am here. Is this not me… I am showing you now.”

He chuckled deeply, the hesitation gone, confidence radiating from him now as he was no longer fighting himself. It was a side of him that she had not seen before—a more powerful, determined, masculine side. He knew what he wanted, and he was going to get it.

“Spread your legs further for me.”

Her eyes went wide. “Like… like this?” She did as he asked.

The fabric of her skirts fell between her thighs, covering everything, but that didn’t seem to matter.

“Pull your skirt back,” he commanded. “Above your thighs.”

Her hand shook as she reached for her skirt.

“Look at me as you do it,” he growled.

She swallowed again and forced herself to look at him. She gasped. The look in his eyes was animalistic. Savage!

“Is this…?” She pulled the dress up slowly, her thighs quivering as they became exposed.

“Now take your finger and tell me how aroused you are.”

Finally, Hannah understood what he meant. Her pulse quickened at the thought, for she had never done such a thing. Oh, she had heard of it. But to actually do it herself… There was a reason her entire body shook the way it did.

Nonetheless, she held his gaze—which had her heart racing—as she slowly moved the index finger of her right hand between her thighs, and touched herself in a way she had never done before. And all while her husband watched.

“Tell me.”

“It is…” Her finger slid between her nether lips, so warm and wet. “It is wet. I am wet.”

“How wet?”

Her eyes flashed. “ Soaking wet.”

He groaned. “Rub yourself gently.”

She frowned, her face flushing with embarrassment. “I do not—what do you mean?”

He chuckled. The sound was deep and enticing. “At the top of your lips, you will find a… a bud.” He smirked. “It will be sensitive to the touch, but if you are gentle, you will enjoy it.”

Somehow, she knew what he was talking about. As she slowly moved her finger to the apex of her sex, she could feel this ‘bud’ he mentioned throbbing. Her finger gently rubbed it, sending a pulse of pure pleasure through her body.

“Ah!” she gasped.

“Do not stop.”

“I… I… I won’t…” she stammered, trying not to moan as her finger gently rubbed her bud.

“Good,” Frederick growled hungrily. “Keep going.”

As he watched her, she saw his own hand move to his crotch and begin to rub it. The sight excited her further, and she moaned, making sure that he saw her eyeing his hand. He grimaced and pulled his hand away, then fell to his knees so he was level with her legs.

“Just like that…”

“It feels… it feels… oh God!”

How to even describe it? Hannah had no idea. Sitting on the edge of Frederick’s bed, touching herself for the first time, being watched and idolized and devoured by his eyes, it was unlike anything she had ever felt before. Anything she could imagine!

Oh yes, she wished he would touch her, too. But this… well, this was not a bad trade.

“Frederick,” she moaned as she continued to rub herself. The sensation inside her grew, spreading from her thighs to her stomach and her chest. Like a fire building within her! “Something… something is happening.”

“Keep going,” he commanded. “Faster. Do not stop until I say.”

“I… I… I—oh God!”

It was an explosion! Somehow painful, somehow pleasurable, all-encompassing like a wave crashing down on her. Her body spasmed. Her legs snapped shut. Her spine stiffened. Her head fell back. She opened her mouth to scream but then closed it as waves of pure pleasure racked her body.

“Good,” Frederick purred. “Very good.”

She fell onto her back, hardly able to breathe, her entire body shaking as those same waves of pleasure still coursed through her, only softer now and nowhere near as intense. And as she lay there, she hoped desperately that Frederick would come to her and take her in his arms.

Typically, he didn’t.

His footsteps echoed across the room, and she sat up just in time to see him at the door.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“To check on Amelia and make sure you did not wake her up.” He popped the door open without even looking back.

“Are you—will you return?” she asked, feeling somewhat nervous.

He hesitated, and she could see that same inner conflict raging inside him. “I am not sure.”

“I will wait for you,” she said quickly.

Again, he hesitated, but then he nodded once, gave her a soft smile, and quickly vanished as he stepped outside and closed the door behind him.

Hannah knew right then that he would not return. And while she was upset by this, she could not help but smile at what had just happened. He had not touched her, as he promised. But somehow, this felt like more than that. More personal. More intense. A step in the right direction, one which she knew would soon lead to one place and one place only.

Oh, Frederick might try and resist for as long as possible, but tonight proved he was only human. And with tomorrow being another day they might spend together, and the day after that and the day after that, Hannah was certain that sooner rather than later, she wouldn’t need her finger the way she had tonight.