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“Because you looked so very beautiful,” he whispered. “I climbed into bed and held you in my arms. I must have fallen asleep myself.” He paused, gazing at her intently. “I would never make love to you without your consent, Patricia. I want you to be fully present when we come together.”
She blushed again, feeling that warmth spread through her limbs. Even though they were still in their night attire, and not naked like the night before, she felt the heat emanating between them.
He suddenly leant forward, hungrily claiming her lips. She gasped in her throat, falling back upon the bed. He hovered above her, kissing her ardently. Her mouth fell open and his tongue darted into it. She groaned, feeling a warm wetness seep out of her.
His hands gripped her buttocks, kneading them furiously. Boldly, she let her hands roam beneath his nightshirt, feeling the strong plains of his chest, the sweep of his hard stomach, and the twitching manhood, already full of need.
Suddenly, the door opened. Sally was standing there. Her mouth dropped open.
“Oh, I am so sorry!” cried the maid, hastily retreating. “I did not realize…”
Patricia sprang away from Jackson as quickly as if she had been burnt. Her husband looked just as embarrassed. Hastily, he pulled up the blankets, covering them both.
“No, it is alright, Sally,” he said quickly. “It is time for us to be up. Just give me a moment to go back to my own chambers, and then Her Grace is all yours.”
The maid bobbed a quick curtsey, closing the door.
Patricia dared to look at him. His mouth was twitching. The next minute, they both burst into laughter. Jackson grabbed her, caressing her hair.
“Poor Sally,” he whispered. “She is having a bad time of it. First, she overdoes her sleeping draught. And now she has walked in on usin flagrante delicto.”
Patricia laughed harder, gazing up at him. Eventually, she caught her breath. They gazed at each other steadily.
“I really should go,” he said slowly.
“Yes. You should.” Her voice was breathless.
He kissed her lingeringly. Her heartbeat quickened again.
The next minute, he jumped out of bed. Grinning at her, he left the room, closing the adjoining door to their chambers firmly behind him.
Patricia fell back against the pillows. She almost felt as if her heart was expanding. As if she were walking on the very air itself. As if she were walking on clouds.
It was amazing, but their connection seemed to be deepening at the most rapid rate. It was only the second morning of their married life, yet she somehow felt as if she had known him forever. As if her former life as Lady Patricia Hunter, was the dream now, and she had always been meant to step into this new life as the Duchess of Merriweather.
It was amazing, and terrifying, and bewildering all at once. She had never felt anything quite like it in her life. There was simply nothing to compare it to. Already, she felt the loss of his presence beside her, as if she had just suffered an amputation. As if their flesh had actually been joined and any separation of it must bleed.
Slowly, she got out of bed and walked to her dressing table. If this was the beginning of love, then it was the most wondrous thing she had ever experienced in her life. And she didn’t think that anything could have prepared her for it.
Her heart seized suddenly. The need to tell him of her family’s financial woes was pressing heavily upon her. She didn’t want anything between them. It was suddenly imperative, that she tell him as soon as possible.
She had already sent the letter to Eleanor; but that was of no matter. If her friend responded in the affirmative saying that she could visit and tell her problem, she would simply say that it was resolved.
She took a deep breath. Yes, she must do it. Before their connection deepened even further. Before it was all too late.
* * *
Patricia leaned back in the bath, closing her eyes as Sally tipped hot water over her hair. She always enjoyed this part of the process the most. After Jackson had slipped out of her bed, she had decided to call the maid for a full bath. She still had time before breakfast.
She leaned back, against the tub, sighing with pleasure, waiting for the maid to start soaping her hair. But after two minutes of waiting, she slowly opened her eyes, puzzled.
“Sally?” she called. “Where are you?”
Hands suddenly seized her hair. Fingers raking through it in a sensuous manner. She stiffened. It didn’t feel like the maid at all.
She turned around. Jackson was standing there, gazing at her, his eyes trailing over her wet body in the bath. Sally was nowhere to be seen.
“What…what are you doing?” she stammered.
