She wondered if that other woman had screamed, too. And felt sure she must have done. Or Monty would not have warned her that she would.
‘Oh, this is hopeless,’ she grumbled as he set her down at the foot of the bed, spun her round and deftly began to undo her gown. ‘You know so much about all this, and I know virtually nothing!’ She had even had to write to her aunt to find out if it was normal for newly married men to want to sleep in a different bed from their wife!
‘What do you want to know?’ he said, nuzzling at the nape of her neck.
So many things! But mostly, ‘If I am supposed to enjoy this quite so much!’ she blurted out.
Her aunt and uncle had convinced her that she came nowhere near the standards of behaviour expected from a proper lady. And she was half-afraid that enjoying this aspect of their marriage proved that she was only one step away from being a complete wanton. Heavens, she would let him do just about anything to her. Anywhere! In a stable. On the hearthrug. She had even cavorted naked across the room last night to entice him, like the veriest light skirt!
It would be nice to hear him say something reassuring. Instead he made a strange choking sound against her neck, before beginning to chuckle.
‘What is funny?’ she asked, a little hurt. She had asked a perfectly serious question!
‘You!’ He chuckled. ‘I never know what you are going to say next!’
Oh, well, she sighed. That was what came of fishing for compliments. She supposed she ought to feel grateful that at least he found her amusing. Her mother must have been so hurt whenever Kit told her she was boring.
Besides, a lady never gave way to her emotions, she could hear her aunt telling her. In a marriage such as theirs, the last thing her husband would want was an emotional scene. Their…marital conversation…was one area where so far, they seemed to be in harmony. She would be a fool to turn it into a bone of contention and needlessly drive a wedge between them.
‘That first afternoon you were here, do you remember?’ Monty said, his arms snaking round her waist. ‘I left you to your own devices for five minutes, and while my back was turned, you managed to turn the stuffiest, most oppressive room in the whole place into a scene of utter carnage!’ Even now, the memory of her struggling up out of the curtains and declaring proudly that she had not broken anything, made him want to chuckle.
She was the sunniest, brightest thing that had ever come into his life. Shevington was not a cold, inhospitable place while she resided under its roof. Even when faced with one of his father’s most chilling lectures, he only had to think of the warm welcome waiting for him up here in these rooms to feel a smile welling up inside. Naturally he could not keep his hands off her. Not when she responded with such unfeigned enthusiasm. No matter what he did.
His conscience had troubled him after the way he had fallen on her, ravishing her on the sofa the first night they had arrived. Only the night before that, she had been a virgin! He should have been gentle and considerate. The rough way he had taken her had left her shaking with shock. He had paced up and down his room that night, cursing his lack of restraint and wondering how he could make amends. Though, with her typical generosity of nature, she had made the aftermath easy for him.
Every day, he thanked God he had found her. He loved the way her heart raced, just because he touched her. He loved that look of shocked gratitude in her eyes whenever he brought her to the heights of pleasure. And he loved watching her vainly struggling to stay awake, before eventually falling into a sated sleep in his arms.
He loved the fact that he was no longer on his own. He hugged her tight. She was his. Wholly his. To cherish and protect.
And speaking of which…
‘Midge,’ he said solemnly, turning her round in his arms to face him. ‘You make me forget what I wanted to say to you.’
He was perturbed to see her looking quite upset, and suddenly realized it had not been very tactful of him to laugh at the naiveté of her earlier question.
‘You are a delight,’ he said, kissing the frown line between her brows. More than that. He was coming to the conclusion that he was becoming addicted to her. He had certainly never suspected he was capable of making love quite so often. She only had to look at him in a certain way…just as she had done earlier, making him forget the reason he had come up to talk to her in the middle of the afternoon.
Which he had to bring to her attention now.
‘Sit down, will you, Midge,’ he said, leading her to the dressing-table stool, waiting till she had sat down, then deliberately distancing himself by walking away and leaning against the bedpost. ‘There is something I should like to ask you. I have been wondering if you have already written to your aunt about it…’ he conjectured, raising one eyebrow in enquiry. Then, receiving nothing in return from Midge but a blank look, he stuck his hands in his pockets and said, ‘Since we have been married, you have not refused me once. And you should have done, should you not? In the normal course of things?’
Midge’s insides hollowed out. She knew it! Her behaviour was not what a husband wanted in a wife at all! A true lady would have feigned reluctance, she expected. And made him work a bit harder before yielding. Pretence, she thought bitterly. That was what being a lady entailed. And she had never been any good at it.
She swallowed down a feeling of nausea. It was so unfair. He had taken full advantage of her wanton nature, after all!
‘You had better explain what you mean,’ she said mutinously. Because she was blowed if she could understand what he was complaining about!
A faint flush swept across his cheeks. ‘To be blunt, my dear, you have not experienced your monthly courses, have you, since we married. I would have thought, after six weeks, that you would have been…um…out of commission at least once…’
The relief that he was not about to tell her she was better suited to the position of mistress than wife was so acute that, for a moment or two, Midge went quite lightheaded.
‘Dammit, Midge, are you going to faint?’
‘I never faint,’ she said weakly as the room spun round her.
The next thing she knew, Monty had scooped her up off the stool and was lying her gently down on the bed. Then he knelt on the floor at the bedside and laid his hands over her stomach.
‘You are carrying my child,’ he breathed, in awe. ‘So soon!’
This was so typical of Midge, to charge full tilt into whatever she did! No holds barred.
She would be a wonderful mother. She was so loving; she would never abandon her child to the rigid regime at Shevington and seek her own amusements in London. Nor shame it by taking a succession of lovers, no matter how disappointed she might be in her husband.
‘A baby?’ Midge breathed, her own hands fluttering over where his rested on her stomach. ‘Do you really think so?’
Her whole world tilted on its axis. It had never occurred to her she might be pregnant. And yet, now he had put the idea in her head, it seemed so obvious. It certainly explained why she had been feeling a bit off-colour the last few days.
Monty looked at her slightly dazed face and felt a rush of protectiveness towards her. Midge was normally healthy and strong, but already carrying his child was taking its toll on her. It was not referred to as being in ‘a delicate condition’ for nothing!
She looked a little pale. Come to think of it, these last couple of weeks, she’d taken to going to bed every afternoon. Had she felt unwell and not told him?
When it was all his fault she was in this condition at all! Because his seed was growing inside her,