Lessons in Pleasure (8 page)

“But . . .” Her face twisted in confusion. “The doctor was clear.”

“Damn it,” he growled, sorry that he made her jump, but not willing to back down. “Did he do anything to help your mother? Did she improve? Did she recover?”

“No.”

“Your father made clear to me that she had been under treatment for many years. He said that in the end it made no difference. The doctor did nothing for her. He is a charlatan. A hack.”

“He said she was already too far gone—”

“Damn it, I am your husband, and I am telling you that sexual desire has nothing to do with madness, Sarah. Do you believe me?”

Her mouth opened, then closed. She clenched her arms tighter over her chest. “Those other women? They . . . they reached climax with you?”

James ignored the heat that climbed up his face. “Yes.”

“Perhaps you are only humoring me.”

“By God, I would hardly classify throwing other women in your face as humoring you!”

Sarah rubbed her arms and bit her lip, but she did not respond.

“I love you, Sarah.” Her eyes flew wide at the words, and James realized he had never said them out loud. “I love you, and if I thought you were in danger, you must believe I would do everything I could to make you well again. But there is nothing wrong with you. You are perfect.”

James was known as a fierce negotiator in the Commons, and there was a reason for that. He could read people, and the signs of capitulation were clear on Sarah’s face. She wanted to give in, wanted to believe him. Finally, he knew exactly what to say to end her distress.

“When we married you made me a promise, Sarah.”

Her eyebrows rose in surprise. “I did?”

“Before God and our family, you promised to love and obey.”

“I-I did.”

“Then let me make this clear. If there is anything you need to learn about your body or my own, I will be the one to teach you. Do you understand?”

She stared, teetering on the edge of giving in to him.

“If you have questions about desire, we will find the answers together. We will discover your pleasure
together.
No more books by idiotic quacks. And if you become worried over your health, we will find the best doctor in London. Are we agreed?”

His wife took a deep breath and let her arms fall, so that only her hands stayed clasped together. One finger worked over the ring he’d placed on her hand a few weeks before. “Yes,” she whispered.

“Pardon?”

“Yes, I will come to you, James.”

The sound of his name on her lips combined with sheer relief and rolled through him like a wave. But she needed his strength, not his gratitude. “Good,” he said quietly. “Now I believe that your last lesson was quite inadequate.”

Her lips parted in question.

“We just barely touched on male anatomy.”

Sarah’s gaze trailed down his body before it jerked back to meet his. “James, it is the middle of the day.”

“So it is.”

A flush touched her lips, then deepened.

“You have clearly been in search of answers today,” he pressed. “What is it you wish to know, wife?”

When her tongue darted out to wet her lips, James knew that victory was his. And hers.

He unknotted his tie and locked the door . . . and the lesson began.

C
HAPTER
7

Sarah stretched her legs beneath the sheets, seeking out a cooler spot. How strange it felt to be so thoroughly naked in her own bed. Strange and very wicked. She stretched even longer, letting her body sink into the fine linen.

It wasn’t even dinnertime yet. She should rise and dress. James had been up for nearly an hour, though he’d kissed her after he’d dressed, and ordered her to stay abed.

Smiling at the memory, Sarah set aside thoughts of getting up. Her husband had told her to stay and relax, and she had vowed to obey him.

Despite the heaviness of her limbs, Sarah felt amazingly light. She’d told him the truth—he’d
known
the truth—and James had not rejected her. In fact, he’d assured her she was normal.

When he’d spoken of other women, Sarah should have been hurt. Perhaps one day the idea would wound her, but today she could only be grateful for those women. She was like
them
; she was not like her mother. She was not anxious and nervous and morose, she was
happy.

Touching his body had made her happy. Making him groan with her touch had brought her joy. Sarah snuggled into the pillow with a grin.

“What has you purring like a kitten?” her husband’s voice asked from the other side of the bed.

“James!” Sarah popped up, dragging the sheets with her.

“Such modesty all of a sudden.”

“Hush.” Her blush seemed to make him smile as he sat on the edge of the bed. He brushed a lock of hair from her cheek.

“Shall I call for dinner? I thought perhaps we could dine here.”

Sarah thought of the servants and what they would think . . . and found that she no longer cared. “I’d like that.”

When he reached for the bellpull, Sarah gasped. Dark bruises covered his knuckles. One of them was scraped. “What have you done to your hand?”

His arm froze for a moment before he grasped the cord and tugged. “You needn’t concern yourself with your appointment next week. The doctor understands that you have no need of his care.”

“All right. But what has that to do with your hand?”

His gaze slid to hers.

“James, you didn’t!”

“When we married, I vowed to love and
protect
you.”

“What can beating a man of science have to do with protecting me?”

Her husband did not look the least bit chastened when he shrugged. “All right. I’ll concede the point. Consider it part of loving you then.”

“James!” she scolded, though she couldn’t manage to put much heat into her voice, perhaps because he had mentioned love again. He loved her. He knew all her secrets and still he loved her.

When he took her hand and stroked his thumb over her palm, they both watched. Once again, Sarah marveled at the contrast of his skin against hers. His fingers were long and bronzed and dusted with hair, and the sight of his scraped knuckles thrilled her in a way that didn’t bear examination. Ladies were not bloodthirsty, after all.

“James?” she whispered.

“Hm?”

She turned her hand around and threaded her fingers through his. “I have one last confession.”

His thumb froze against her hand. “Another?”

“Yes. I think . . . that is, I am quite sure that I am terribly in love with you.”

“Ah, I see. Terribly?”

“Yes, horribly.”

Slowly, he raised her hand to his mouth for a long, lingering kiss that turned into a smile against her skin. “Good. I would hate to think myself alone in this misery. But I detect that you were recently in doubt.”

She swallowed the thickness from her throat. “Not doubt. Not of you. I have only felt so . . . confused. My life changed so completely. A new home, a new role, a new life. I was Mrs. Hood, and I did not know who she was.”

When she dared a look at James’s face, she found his brow falling into a deep frown. “I never thought . . .” he murmured. “That sounds horrid, Sarah.”

“No, it wasn’t horrid! It was only a change, and you have been lovely and patient and kind. And if it hadn’t been you . . . if it hadn’t been
you,
James, I would’ve been afraid and lost.

“But it
was
you,” she said when he looked as if he would interrupt. “And now I know who I am again. I am Sarah. I am your wife. And I love you.”

James did not answer. He only stared down at their clasped hands, with his mouth set in a flat line.

Love and fear pulsed through Sarah’s veins. She had said too much, revealed something that might hurt him. “James?”

“I am thinking what I could do to help you adjust. I am trying to imagine how it would feel to give up my home and family and habits and start anew with a virtual stranger.”

Sarah could not help but smile at that. He was hardly a stranger anymore. The fear left her, dissipating through her skin and disappearing entirely.

She kissed his shoulder, but he didn’t look up. “The strangest thing was that I had never been allowed to even be alone with a man, and suddenly . . .” She smiled at him when he glanced up, a pained expression on his face. “Suddenly I was expected to be
very
alone with a man, if you understand my meaning.”

James cringed. “I think I do.”

“But I have come to realize that the best solution for strangeness is complete immersion.”

“Immersion?”

“Yes. If you truly wish to help me adjust . . . ?”

His eyes grew warmer at her tone and flickered down the sheet that hid her body. “Oh, I most certainly do.”

“Then I believe if you would focus your attentions on only my most pressing anxieties . . .”

James leaned a little closer and idly wrapped one hand into a trailing edge of the sheet. “My God, Mrs. Hood. You are a genius. Pray tell, what is your most aching concern?”

Sarah nodded, trying to look solemn even as she blushed to the roots of her hair. “I am wondering . . .”

“Yes?” When he shifted, the sheet wrapped around her bosom became precariously loose.

“I understand that a husband has certain needs . . .”

His hand moved beneath the edge of the linen, and his fingers spread wide over her naked knee. “Oh, yes,” he answered, voice a little lower than it had been. “Definite needs.”

“But I’ve read several books on the subject, and it’s not clear . . .”

“Hm?” His thumb slipped higher, feathering against her thigh.

“Just how often”—she had to pause to draw a breath—“those needs might
arise.
”

“Ah,” James sighed sympathetically. “Poor wife, kept so thoroughly in the dark. Perhaps a demonstration would make it most clear?”

When he nuzzled her shoulder, the sheet finally gave up its hold and fell away. He bent his head immediately to his task.

“Oh, yes,” Sarah gasped. “A demonstration.”

He proved over the next few hours that a man’s needs might arise quite often between husband and wife. And Sarah proved herself a quick student of her new role.

VICTORIA DAHL
started reading romance at an inappropriately young age and hasn’t stopped since. Fortunately, all those years of reading helped her recognize her Prince Charming when he arrived, and she now lives in the mountains with her husband and two children. During the summer, she hikes with her family. During the winter, she likes to curl up with a book and a cup of hot cocoa and think about all those poor, cold skiers out in the snow.

Victoria loves to hear from readers! Please write to her at [email protected]. For more information about her books, please visit
www.VictoriaDahl.com
.

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ISBN: 978-1-5161-0037-8