Chapter 7

CHAPTER SEVEN

J essica was not quite sure what she had expected after making her request, but it hadn’t been a morning of exquisite torture. Perhaps, she had thought, he would want to take her back up to bed immediately. According to Colyton, the marital act was meant to be performed after dark, in the privacy of the lady’s chamber, and afterwards, the husband returned to his own.

Dalliance, she assumed, had different rules, but perhaps not. What did she know, after all?

Martin took her consent to do that with him as permission to treat her in a most familiar manner. After those first two kisses, he never lost an opportunity to touch her—a stroke of her hand when she passed him his plate, a hand on her shoulder as he passed her on the way to fetch the ale, a slide of his leg against hers as they sat side by side at the table.

And that was just at breakfast!

He proposed a game of chess after they had done the dishes.

“We are almost out of bread,” she told him, a little disappointed that they could not move directly to that . She was feeling unaccountably restless, and her breasts and nether regions were tingling. “I can make some more. It won’t take long, and we can play chess once the bread is rising.” Though privately, she had been hoping for more kissing. Colyton had rarely kissed her, and the two kisses from Martin, especially the second, had made her curious about what “more” might mean.

“I will help,” Martin said. “I have never made bread, but I can follow directions.”

He was helpful, too, though his physical presence and his touches scattered her thoughts. The hardest part was always the kneading, and Jessica usually had to knead the dough in batches, even though she was only making enough for two loaf tins, since only the two of them were here.

Being so much stronger than her, Martin was able to knead the entire batch at once. At first, he stood behind her, putting his hands on hers, saying that he was keen to follow her movements so he knew what he was doing.

She did her best to ignore his buttocks against her lower back, and especially the hard cylinder that pressed into her as he leaned a little of his weight against her and allowed her hands to lead his across the dough. It was impossible, though. She knew he was aroused. What would he do about it? He was certainly not planning to do that here, was he?

But apparently not. Once she had demonstrated the kneading action, he asked her to move to one side and gave the dough a thorough working, until it was as elastic and springy as it needed to be.

Meanwhile, Jessica had greased the bowl and sprinkled a cloth with flour. “Now roll the dough into a ball, and put it in the bowl,” she instructed, and stood by to put the cloth over it when he was done. “We will leave this to rise, Martin.” She set it close to the stove, where it would keep warm but not overheat.

“Did I do a good job with the kneading?” Martin asked.

“You did,” she assured him.

“Then I have earned a kiss, have I not?”

She stiffened her jaw in time to stop it dropping. She had not expected that. Warily, she nodded. “I will just fetch some water to wash the dough off our hands,” she said.

“Wash after,” he suggested. “Lean forward, Jessica. We won’t use our hands. This time.”

She leaned forward, though she was a little disappointed. On numerous occasions over the in the past year, she had walked into a room or around a corner in the garden to see Haverford and Cherry kissing. Hands were always involved, though she had never stayed to figure out exactly how.

But “this time” sounded promising.

His lips touched hers. The tingle was pleasant, but she had hoped for more. He licked across her mouth again, and then he did something new. With his teeth, he nipped her lower lip. Her mouth dropped open in shock, and that was when the kiss changed.

Some part of her mind was making notes. Kisses can involve tongues . Good. An opportunity like this was unlikely to come her way again. She wanted to remember everything that happened. His mouth covered hers, slightly abrasive in a way hers was not. She had noticed yesterday that his facial hair grew quickly, and perhaps he had not shaved today.

His tongue slid along inside her lips, and then withdrew. “Open up, sweetheart,” he murmured, and she obediently opened her teeth, inserting his tongue to rub across hers, filling her mouth and then withdrawing, filling her mouth and then withdrawing.

It is an imitation of the marital act , she realised. The tingle was back, and focused between her legs, where she had occasionally felt a pleasant excitement before. If Martin could produce this effect with a kiss in which no other parts of them touched except their mouths, what would that feel like.

And next time, or the time after, he would put his hands on her, draw her close to his body as she had seen Haverford do to Cherry. She moaned in enjoyment and anticipation.

Suddenly, Martin drew back. “Chess?” he asked.

Chess! Is the man serious? Here Jessica was, all hot and bothered, and Martin looked as if nothing of significance had happened. For her pride’s sake, she forbore to argue. “Yes, of course,” she said.

To Martin, or so it transpired, chess provided opportunity after opportunity to continue his programme of touches. It was excruciating. It was wonderful. His foot stroked up her ankle under the table. He caught her hand when she had moved a piece and place a kiss or a lick in her palm, or sucked a finger into his mouth. He proposed a penalty of a kiss for each piece captured—and each kiss was more venturesome than the last.

She had been correct. Kisses when they were so close that their bodies pressed together. Kisses when his hands roamed her body, and, greatly daring, she explored him back. And he didn’t object! He didn’t tell her that ladies kept their hands to themselves, that ladies lay still and did nothing while husbands took their pleasure.

Of course, he was not a husband, but a lover, and from what she had heard when other ladies talked, lovers made certain that ladies had pleasure, too. How lucky were those ladies whose husbands were also their lovers?

“Checkmate,” said Martin, as he moved his bishop into an unassailable position. “What do I win, Jessica?”

Jessica wanted to say, “Me,” but would he think her wanton? Besides, she wasn’t certain it was true. Yes, the pleasure and craving he had aroused in her was sharp and insistent. Much more so than the vague and distant sensations she had sometimes experienced when Colyton took a while to reach his end. She was still afraid she would freeze up when they began the actual act.

“What do you want?” she temporised.

“You, of course,” he said, “but you are still not certain, are you? Don’t be nervous, Jessica. I won’t do anything you do not want, and you can stop me at any time.”