Was she trying to seduce him? Or could she truly not untie her own strings?
Samuel gulped and took several tries before untying the knot and slowly unlacing the whaleboned garment. He let it drop to the floor. He placed his hands where the corset had been around her waist and kissed her shoulder. She made a mewling sound that nearly undid him. He nuzzled her neck and let his hands stray upward.
‘I—I—I am not ready.’
With what was left of his slipping self-control, Samuel stepped back from her. He had been preparing for this night all day but she’d had less than an hour. From other officers’ bawdy talk, he knew that the first time for a lady could be painful and unpleasant. It was not unnatural that she would be scared, and unlike her feminine peers, a Stringham would know exactly how mating was done. She probably knew many ways, but this thought did not cool down his body.
He clenched his hands and exhaled slowly. ‘There is no rush. Would you prefer I asked for a separate room?’
‘Do you snore?’ Frederica asked, blushing fiercely as she stood before him in the thin material of her shift.
‘No.’
‘Will you steal the sheets?’
‘Never.’
She attempted a tight smile. ‘Then I suppose there is no reason why we could not sleep in the same bed.’
Samuel agreed with her gravely. Sleeping beside her would be more torture than pleasure. He would have to keep his hands to himself. He had always prided himself on self-control, but that was before a half-naked Frederica would be sleeping beside him.
Wearing only her shift, Frederica slipped into the bed underneath the covers. Her eyes were as wide as guineas as she watched him unbutton his uniform jacket and then his shirt. She did not avert her gaze and he was not going to ask her to. Nor was he going to fully undress before her. He thought it would scare her and remove his tenuous control of his own body. After putting on his nightshirt, he then pulled off his unpleasantly tight breeches. He brought the bottle of champagne and two wine glasses to the bed. He uncorked the bottle and then poured out the bubbly liquid into the glasses.
He handed one to Frederica and then raised his glass. ‘To our marriage.’
Frederica raised her cup and echoed his toast.
Chapter Nineteen
Frederica opened her eyes. For a moment, she did not recognise her surroundings. Beside her in bed, softly snoring, lay her husband. The morning sun shone through the curtains and she pulled the sheets up to her neck. She sneaked another peek at Samuel. His chest rose up and down rhythmically. Extending her hand from under the sheet, she brushed his muscled chest with her fingers. How she had longed to touch him the night before. To try out all the delightfully shocking things her mother had told her about. But she had been too afraid. Not of the act. Nor of the pain that might be part of her losing her maidenhood.
She was afraid that she would be a gauche disappointment. Young men were encouraged to ‘practise’, for want of a better word, before the marriage night. Their indiscretions were socially acceptable as long as they were relatively discreet with a widow, mistress, or at a brothel. Those women knew how to please a man and enhance the sexual experience. Likely some naughty tricks to extend the pleasure. Frederica had no doubt that she would eventually excel at bed games. She enjoyed kissing very much and she loved kissing Samuel.
Most young ladies did not know how babies were made. The lucky ones like herself were told by their mother before their wedding night. Some brides knew nothing and had to rely on whatever their husband decided to tell them. Or not tell them. Frederica could readily understand how terrifying sexual congress could be for the unprepared.
She was prepared in knowledge. But what if he laughed at her naivety? Her clumsiness? He had laughed at her so many times in the past and each time it had crumbled a part of her soul. Not that she had been innocent. She had wanted his attention too much to be ignored.
Gulping, she could not resist allowing her fingers to run over his smooth, muscled chest again. A large hand caught hers, and Samuel opened his eyes. Frederica felt heat rush to her cheeks.
‘You looked just like that the first time I saw you. You were six or seven years old,’ Samuel recalled. ‘You had on a yellow frock and your hair was in two braids. Your face looked so worried and full of guilt.’
‘I was guilty,’ Frederica confessed. ‘Elizabeth, Mantheria, and Charles said that I was too young to play with you, so I collected spiders and put them in your bed. When you arrived, you gave me a doll with blue ribbons in her hair. I felt terrible, until the next day, when you pushed me into a mud puddle.’
Frederica felt the laugh vibrate in his chest before she heard it.
Samuel smiled at her. ‘We were a pair of hoydens. I daresay you remember every awful thing I did.’
She nodded her head into the pillow. ‘I do. Every single dead mouse you put in my shoes, every worm you slipped down the back of my dress, and every mud ball you threw at my head. Shall I go on?’
‘No, no,’ Samuel said, lifting her hand to his mouth and kissing it. ‘That list is incriminating enough. I daresay it was a good thing we only visited each other in the summer.’
Squeezing her eyes shut, Frederica said, ‘Let us not talk about the past.’
He kissed the tips of her five fingers as he still held her hand. ‘You are right. I would much rather talk about the present and you do not need to be sly about your caresses.’
She gulped. ‘I do not think that I am ready yet—for, you know.’
Samuel pressed one more kiss into the palm of her hand. ‘You might not be, but your hand certainly is. Well, shall we get an early start of it?’