She blinked. She was dangerously near to crying. Instead, she launched back into the subject of their marital bargain. “If we are to marry, you can’t keep so many secrets from me. Everything about you is locked up in compartments, like that wardrobe in the forbidden room I’m not supposed to open. Everywhere I turn, more mysteries. I found a list you made, women’s names. Kitty, Tessie, Janet, Laurel. Who are they?”
He dropped her hands, a shadow passing over his face. “Ana, you must let me keep certain parts of my life in the past. Please trust me, there is nothing in that room or written on that paper that is a threat to you.”
She wanted to know his secrets. He couldn’t give her that. But he could keep her safe. Make sure no man ever threatened her again. No woman tried to sell her body into servitude. He’d be her protector, her lover, her guardian. Pledge to guard her body, her spirit.
While keeping his heart locked tightly.
“Ana, I will attempt to fulfill your requirements for more communication, and less secrets moving forward. And, for my part, I pledge that this marriage will ensure your safety, nurture your writing ambition, and that you will not lack for pleasure.”
“Pleasure...” She bit her lower lip. “Of the carnal variety.”
“Just so. You’ll be well-pleasured in our marital bed. If you’re a good girl.”
“What does that mean?”
“If you obey my rules, my commands.” He cradled her cheek in one of his large hands. “Do you know where I always express myself eloquently?”
She shook her head, her breathing ragged.
“In the bedchamber. I’ll give you instructions, encouragement. I’ll tell you how beautiful you are, how much you please me.” He closed the slight distance between them, leaning down to whisper in her ear. “And if you’re naughty, I’ll take you over my knee and spank you. And you’ll like it. You’ll beg me for more.”
He moved his hands around to squeeze her bottom, bringing her hips flush against his hardness. With his hands still cupping her bottom, he kissed her deeply, expertly. Tasting her sweetness, reveling in the silken heat of her mouth, the soft sighs that escaped her lips. The way she twined her arms around his neck to pull him even closer.
This wasn’t just the frissons... this was an all-out riot inside her body. Hot and cold at the same time, melting and languid and yet so exquisitely aware of every movement he made.
The way his tongue filled her mouth made unfamiliar muscles inside her clench and unclench.
So deliciously good. She wanted more. She lifted her lips and he complied, kissing her again, his hands roaming to her waist, gripping her tightly.
When the kiss ended, Ana felt dazed, as though she’d stared at the sun for too long. He released her gently, a serious look on his face.
“Our marriage will be full of physical pleasure, Ana. And friendship. We will be a team, nothing more. Nothing deeper than that. I am what and who I am for a reason. That won’t change. Please don’t expect any magical transformation, or a rake’s redemption, like the ones you might write in your novels. There is no charming prince hiding behind these scars, just more scars, in layers all the way to my core. The sooner you accept this, the more content we will be.”
Ana took in this uncharacteristically long speech, the blazing flush caused by his touch fading quickly. He obviously meant all he was saying—or thought he meant it. She wasn’t sure which.
“And you can live like that? Never being truly intimate with anyone, never giving your heart or accepting someone else’s heart in return?”
He gave a short laugh. “I have learned that hearts are given and accepted far too lightly for my taste. I’m better off without one, mine or someone else’s.”
So he had loved someone once, maybe. Perhaps he’d been ill-used. The thought was a kernel of comfort in the wash of confusion caused by his words. A broken heart was still a heart. And broken hearts could be mended.
His was well enough to show her kindness, to take care of her, to promise her the career of her dreams. To set her on horseback and ride straight into the maw of the ton with her, just to show her that there was strength in simply being oneself. This was a heart worth saving.
And save it she would.
Chapter Twenty
By the next evening Amsonia had, in her usual indomitable fashion, absorbed and reconciled herself to the situation. Now the only thing left was for them to return—she armed with a small sword she’d found in a pile of jeweled armor, the Dragon with his fire and claws.
Brandishing the blade, its emerald-studded hilt gleaming, she stood resolutely in front of Qavox. “Let us make haste back to Vyranthrall!” Amsonia cried. “My father needs me!”
Was there nothing that truly scared her? he wondered.
—The Dragon and the Blue Starby Analise Crewe
The first thing that went awry on the day of their wedding was easily explained. Ana, of course, had no time to have a special wedding dress made for herself, no lovely dollops of Belgian lace or exquisitely embroidered netting over champagne silk (these being integral elements of the Clovercote wedding costume she’d just designed).
She was to wear a simply cut gown of pale lemon-yellow silk, its only affectation a cunning border of seed pearl scallops aroundthe bodice. Tessie dressed her hair in an equally simple style, drawing it upward into a Grecian top knot, letting her natural curls dictate the fall of the swoops on either side of her brow.