August, 1816 - Hastings House, London

Half yawning and half groaning, Logan reached his arms over his head, grasped the bottom of the headboard and stretched toward the foot of the bed.  Even with his great height, he would never reach it in this massive bed.  With his black hair and midnight blue eyes, bronzed from head to toe except for a wrinkled scar in his side, one could suppose that his achingly beautiful body had been the model for all Greek bronze sculptures of the gods.  He had spent his summer lying in the sun, waiting to heal.  He studied estate books, and swam to stretch his muscles to get his strength back.  As he started to relax, he heard a high-pitched gasp, and when he quickly sat up, he saw her standing inside the room.  With another squeal, she stepped back and reached behind her for the door latch.

 

He had been waiting nearly an hour and had given her at least half an hour to let her abigail, Molly, prepare her for her wedding night.  He had ordered the fire in the hearth to be started at noon, to ensure that by evening it would be truly warm in the large, well-appointed chamber.  He didn’t want her to be shivering with cold when they lay together.  He’d tapped softly on her door and when there was no answer, entered slowly.

He looked toward the bed and noted with dismay that she still wasn’t here.  What in the world were they doing with her?  How long did it take to get her into a gown, which he would have off her in short order?  Should he go back to his room and wait there?  He threw more wood on the fire and prowled the room checking the candle stands and making sure the wine and glasses were on the night stand.  Servants had placed flowers around the room and had seen to everything.  He paced around the room again, stopping to look out the window into the park across from the townhouse.  All was quiet.  The last wedding guests had finally taken their leave and he was left to do his duty and consummate this union.

He would wait for her here, he decided.   In fact, as he looked over at the bed, he thought to lie down and rest while waiting and hoped he wouldn’t fall asleep.  This past week had not been an easy one and he knew it was going to be a difficult night.  He and his bride had met for the first time just the week before.  He had tried to make her feel that he was not looking at this union as just a political match, but it was obvious she was not excited, pleased, or in any way anticipating her marriage.  In fact, he couldn’t remember a single word she had spoken to him.  How in the world was he to convince her that this could be advantageous for both of them?

He had never taken a virgin before — and this one had barely even looked at him.  He knew it would require patience and a lot of it.  But he also had never had a woman reject him or leave his bed without her desire sated, including his first tumble in the hay with a village girl at Thornewood Hall.

He in fact had been careful not to have dalliances with virgins.  He might be considered a rake, but debauchery, ruining innocents, was something his code of honor would never allow him.  He had much preferred a widow who was satisfied with her circumstances, or a dissatisfied married woman. There was no pretense with them; no chance of being leg-shackled by an overly zealous dragon mother.  With him, widows and married women knew they would get a night or two of pure lust from one of London’s most sought after rakes.  And, it was rarely more than a night or two, though he had had two mistresses.  Krystal, his last mistress, had been given her congé the night before he left for Spain a year ago.

And, he supposed that after the initial amusement with his new bride wore off and he’d gotten the requisite heir off her, he’d pay a call on Krystal again.  And if not her, someone else.  It was the way of the ton and he didn’t expect his bride would know any different – or, in fact, that she would care.

And while there had been the usual camp followers, he had not been eager to chance any of the diseases he might get from availing himself of their generous offers.  Besides, he enjoyed flirting with women before the ultimate conquest and there seemed to be no end of candidates willing to flirt with him.  Since his first venture into Society, he had been the target of seduction by women.  He had just barely turned eighteen when, at a house party, his dinner partner, Lady Jersey – who was nearing fifty and had recently been replaced as senior mistress to the Prince of Wales – had leaned toward him as though to ask him a question, and under cover of the table linens had tucked her hand into his crotch and stroked him till he thought he would spill himself during the fish course.  Later, as the ladies stood to leave the men to their port and cigars, she leaned toward him with a confident smile and whispered, “One o’clock” and told him her room location.  She had waited in vain.   At first, he had been amused and then it occurred to him that she had a daughter about his age and a son with whom he enjoyed hunting.  Dear God!  It had seemed nearly incestuous!  He warned his brother Phillip to keep his distance.  But Lord knew that at other times, women had literally stood in line for both of them.  He remembered one evening when he and Phillip had been surrounded by women, each one vying against the others to gain the upper hand even while The Brothers were making good their escape      But Logan enjoyed the chase, the sparring, and a woman who had enough wit, intelligence and gamesmanship to play along with him.  He didn’t see Juliana as being that sort of woman, but she was his wife now and his duties and responsibilities were clear.  It was up to them to make the best of it.

After turning eighteen he had become one of London’s most popular bachelors.  University had been so easy for him that his time had been spent larking about Oxford and planning his next foray into London.  But, four years of that and nearly a decade as a man-about-town had finally taken its toll on him.  And the war had changed him.  He was feeling jaded, tired of his mistress and tired of the chase.  He always won and the game was becoming boring.  Now a year and a half later, he was willing to settle down and marry.  He just wished to God it was for a different reason.

The choice for a second son was usually either the military or the church.  And since the bishops would have taken one look at him and known that vows of chastity were not in his future, there was no difficulty in making his choice.  He purchased a commission and had no difficulty in being chosen for the Green-jacketed 95th Rifles.  The years spent target shooting at Manton’s and hunting with Phillip and his father at Thornewood had paid off,  as he was quickly accepted into this elite group.  The 95th Rifles was a highly respected regiment.  The training was relentless and to kill the enemy was their only purpose.  And in truth, the expertise of its soldiers made even their worst enemies respect their ability.  At the Battle of Waterloo, during an especially savage engagement, he had received a sword injury that fortunately had only minor lasting consequences.  For him as for so many others, Waterloo had been a nightmare of screaming men and horses, the smell of blood and excrement, and the pouring rain that left them blue with cold.  Thirty thousand of the Seventh Coalition’s finest men were dead or missing, and they could never be replaced.

Then, after Christmas, while recuperating at Thornewood Hall, his older brother Phillip, his father’s heir, had suffered a debilitating disease of the heart.  Doctors told them it was possible he would not live to inherit the earldom and even if he did, he was now too weak to continue the work required to manage the lands and finances.  Even with estate managers, the tenants needed the earl in residence for at least part of the year to act as mediator and magistrate, and to be a stabilizing presence in the community.

No one could believe how this had happened to Phillip who was young and healthy and who should, even now, be spending time with his father at Thornewood Hall.  So while their father seemed to be in good health, who could know what might happen to him?  Now it would be Logan’s job to take over Phillip’s responsibilities.  Phillip, only ten months his senior, was not married and had no heirs to inherit the earldom.  So it was Logan’s duty to secure the succession and produce an heir, in case Phillip should die soon as some doctors feared.  While there was nothing he wouldn’t do for his brother, God knew he never wanted any of this responsibility.  The thought of his older brother dead made his heart ache.

He loved Phillip.  They had shared an idyllic childhood together.  Thornewood Hall was a dream for young boys and they spent every summer together swimming, fishing, hunting and generally getting into scrapes that, had their father but known, he would have locked them up.  Logan had imitated and followed Phillip wherever he went.  They seemed to be one and the same person.

When Phillip was old enough for a tutor, they refused to be parted from each other and so Logan sat in the nursery school room and learned everything that Phillip did.  By the time Phillip reached the age of eleven and Logan nearly that, their father, The Sixth Earl of Thornewood, felt it was time to send Phillip to Eton.  Both boys set up such a howl that the earl decided to send them off together.  After all, Logan was just as far along in his studies as Phillip, and even the servants couldn’t imagine them being separated.

Even though Phillip carried the courtesy title of Viscount Wetherington, the earl had insisted that Phillip not be treated any differently than Logan.  They were called “Master Phillip” and “Master Logan” and by the time they returned from Eton, their friends simply referred to them as “The Brothers”.

When they entered the social whirl of the ton, some members of the elite assumed they were twins.  Of course, the hovering dragon chaperones knew who the true heir was, but with their handsome, roguish good looks, charm and smiles that lured their daughters out from under their eagle eyes, they also referred to them as “The Brothers”.  They were both invited to all the balls and soirees.  Logan was always eagerly received, even at Almack’s, where second sons were traditionally considered déclassé.  Certainly, the young debs didn’t seem to care which of them they danced with.  It was doubtful that any of the hopeful young things would have cared which of  The Brothers asked them to dance, walked them in to dinner, or courted their hand in marriage.  They were equally sought after and were generous with their attention to even the wallflowers.  While anyone who knew anything could have called them rakes, they were too charming and generous of spirit for anyone to do that.  On the evening they both lured the two most circumspect and exacting chaperones onto the dance floor for a daring waltz, they became the darlings of the ton and the heroes of the other bachelors.  Such was the demand for their presence and attention at social affairs, they were grateful when the Season ended and they could leave London for Thornewood Hall.

So now here he was, waiting for his bride to come through the door.  The more he thought about it, the more convinced he became that all that was required was a little patience on his part. By God, it was hot in here!  He threw off his robe and lay naked on the bed.

 

Juliana stepped through the door to the bedroom.  The fireplace on the wall to her right was roaring and sent a beautiful glow over the room.  She looked toward the far wall to the bed and her eyes widened.  She gave a high-pitched gasp as though she had seen a mouse.  Oh, how she wished that was indeed what she had seen.  She could handle a mouse.  Lord knew she had dispensed with plenty of them in the Community House.  But what she saw on that huge bed was a man so large and so dark that she was unable to process the vision.  And please, God help her, he looked naked!  He rolled up onto his knees and she squealed again, stepping back toward the door and grabbing onto the latch.  How could this be the same man she had stood next to at the altar and married this afternoon?  She had not looked at him too closely, either then or during the week before.  Certainly, she had not looked into his eyes or examined his . . . form.  She couldn’t say “body”.  She blushed even to think of that.  But during the little time she had spent with him this past week he had never looked this dangerous.

He had been very solicitous of her aunt and uncle.  Her uncle was the one who had arranged the marriage with Logan’s father, and she was sure it had provided her uncle with a handsome settlement.  After all, as her uncle told her, his younger brother, Juliana’s father, had never been able to keep a farthing in the pot and he had every intention of getting repaid for what it cost him for her and her sister Tessa’s keep.  They were both, indeed, a rich commodity for him.  Practically convent-raised, they came from good stock and were as pure as the driven snow.  What young chit of the ton could guarantee that!

Their mother had died when she was almost ten and Tessa was almost nine.  Her father had tried his best to take care of them, but one day he just seemed to fade away.  When Juliana was fourteen he died, and his older brother became the girls’ guardian.  She and Tessa were taken to their uncle’s home where they had hoped their aunt would make them feel less forsaken.  But a month into their stay it was obvious that aunty was not about to make any effort to accommodate them.

What recompense had been given to the Community Home to take both of them in, she might never know.  Uncle had told them that the Servants of the Poor would lead them toward a life of piety and purity.  Evidently, the Sisters, as they called themselves, believed it would be found in the bottom of a scrub bucket as they were both assigned jobs as scrubwomen.  For two gently bred and educated young girls to be thrust into such thankless, menial, backbreaking jobs was cruel indeed.  And to be forced to continue watching her bright, loving, witty sister turn angry and frightened was agonizing for Juliana.  Thank goodness she had been able to be near her every day for the last four years to protect and defend her.  What would happen to her now that she was gone brought tears to her eyes every time she thought of it.

The Home, in the countryside near the town of Hastings, was a refuge or punishment, depending on what circumstances brought you there.  It served penitents, grieving widows with no family to care for them, and the poor.  That neither Juliana or her sister fitted into any of these slots mattered not at all.  They were quickly hired as cheap labor and forced to pay penance for sins they were unaware of while at the same time they became cats paws for every error discovered in the Home by the Sister Superior.

The Home was not connected to any church, but Sister Superior believed that any woman who had need of their community needed to answer to God.  A vicar and a priest visited regularly to give counsel, take confessions and give sermons, and the priest gave mass whenever he visited.   Along with the vicarage, and several other services in the town of Hastings, The Sisters and Servants of the Poor, a Community Home, was one of the main charitable works supported by the Thornewood Earldom.

And now, this large, dark man was her husband and he was waiting for her.  As he moved up onto his knees to look down the room toward her she saw he was indeed naked.  This time she groaned and, shuddering, turned her body away from him, leaning her forehead against the door.  She knew she couldn’t go back into the dressing room, but how could she approach him?

"Juliana, whatever is wrong?” Logan called to her.

How could she tell him that the thought of having him look at her and her having to look at him made her feel faint?  Never had she seen a naked man nor even imagined a naked man.  At the Community Home, the Sisters were never, ever, naked.  Some of them were, after all, “fallen women” and since everything was done to promote piety,  the word “naked” was not ever mentioned  Each woman wore the same long, gray gown with sleeves that tied at the wrist to cover as much skin as possible.  If they showed skin beyond their faces and hands, they were severely chastised.  This had been an especially difficult rule to obey since she was always up to her elbows in scrub water, scouring floors on her hands and knees.  Her hands and arms were chapped and rough from sleeves wet with lye soap plastered against her skin.  How had she gone from there to this beautiful manor with this exceptional looking man?  What was he going to expect her to do?  How could she become the gracious wife that he deserved? Logan leaped out of bed and with long strides moved toward her.

“No, my lord!”  she cried out when he was near her.  “Please, don’t come any closer.  Please go back to the bed.  I can’t.  I just can’t.”

“You can’t what?” he asked gently, touching her shoulder.

She jerked at his touch and groaned, curling her shoulders away from him, her eyes pinched shut.  “Please go back to the bed,” she begged.

“Come with me, my dear.  I can’t imagine why you are so overset.  What could have happened since our wedding to make you afraid to look at me?”  Actually, he remembered now that she had not once looked at him during the wedding ceremony.

“I will look at you if you go back to bed and cover yourself,” she replied hesitantly.

“Is that what’s bothering you?  My dear, we are married now.  There is nothing we can’t do now that should bother you.  I have been told,” he said with a grin, “I’m not really so bad to look at and I can only imagine how beautiful you will be.”

She groaned again.  “That’s just it,  my lord.  I am so afraid to have you look at me that it makes me tremble.”

“But why, Juliana?  Why feel this way when you are such a beautiful woman?  Do you have some mark on you that you think will displease me?”

“No, no.  That’s not it. It is just so embarrassing to imagine you seeing my . . . shape that I wish I could just go to sleep and wake up when this night is over.”

Logan tried turning her toward him to comfort her, but she wrenched away and pressed her head against the door.  My God, how was he going to solve this dilemma?  He certainly couldn’t force her.  That he would never do.”

“Juliana, if I get into bed and cover myself, will you come just to the side of the bed and talk with me?”

“Yes, if you promise to do just that,” she whispered.  Juliana waited until he let go of her shoulders and she could hear his footsteps padding across the thick Aubusson carpet.  “Are you covered yet?” she asked.

This was truly a new experience for him.  Most of the women he had dallied with had been only too happy to undress him as quickly as possible.    He had no idea how he was to deal with this, but he imagined he was about to find out.  But how was he to spend a lifetime with a woman who was so terrified to get near him that she wished to be unconscious rather than even look at him?

“Yes, Juliana. I’m in bed and covered up. You may approach without fainting.”

He watched her turn and peep at him to make sure it was safe.  It was then that he really looked at her and wondered what in hell she was wearing.  It looked as though she had taken a heavy quilt and wrapped herself in it and then tied it on with a long sash.  She looked three times as wide as she was tall.  As she approached with a peculiar waddle, he was reminded of a toy he and Phillip had played with when they were young.  It was a carved wooden person with stiff legs dangling from beneath.  It waddled from side to side when directed down a slanted board, only to fall in a heap at the bottom.  He and Phillip had always laughed uproariously.

“Come over here next to the bed,” he soothed.  “I promise not to touch you.  Let’s just talk.  Tell me, my dear Juliana, what in the world has you this frightened.  I have no intention of harming you.  I’ve never yet had a woman complain that I was not the soul of consideration for her feelings.  Please.  Talk to me.  Let me try to understand.  What have you been told about me that makes you believe otherwise?”

She hesitated.  “It’s not anything I’ve been told, my lord, but . . .”

“Logan.  My name is Logan.  Can you at least call me by my name?” he prodded gently.

“Yes, my lor – Logan.  It’s not that I’ve been told anything.”  She looked not at him, but beyond him.  “As a matter of fact, I have been told nothing of any kind and can only imagine from remarks I have overheard what is in store for me.”

My God, Logan thought to himself, what horrors had she been filled with and by whom?  Probably those Sisters.  But what possible experience and information could they have had to impart to her?  She finally glanced at him and he had a chance to look in her eyes and he could see the fear reflected in them.  He also noticed a film of perspiration on her brow and upper lip.

“Juliana, you seem to be terribly warm.  This room is really quite hot.  Don’t you wish to remove that blanket from around you before you become faint?”  She backed away.  “Please, don’t move away.  I won’t touch you until you give me permission.  But you must be terribly uncomfortable – as I was.  That’s why I removed my robe.”

“Well, I could remove the blanket.  It is warm in here.”

She untied the sash and unwound the blanket from around her to expose a quilted robe of almost equal weight and bulk.  “Yes, that’s really much better.  Thank you, my lord.”

He couldn’t help but grin at that remark and as he caught her eye, her lips creased to give him a small smile in return.  He was encouraged by this and laid his hand out with the palm up on the sheet.  Raising an eyebrow at her, he asked her to touch his hand.  She laid her hand in his and he curled his fingers around hers and rubbed his thumb over her knuckles.  She quickly pulled her hand away and said, “I’m so sorry, my lord – Logan.”

“What are you sorry about?  You’ve done nothing to be sorry for.”  He knew he sounded a little exasperated.  He was going to have to be more patient with her. Indeed, he had imagined her taking tea, living a life of prayer and meditation on some ethereal plane.  “Please believe that I will always protect you,” Logan said with conviction. “You are my wife and you will be the mother of my children.  No other job will be more important for you.”

Her heart lifted then and she began to wonder if perhaps she could trust him.  “I’m sorry  I’ve been so frightened, Logan.  Perhaps I can begin to trust you.  Please tell me what I should do and I’ll try not to offend.”

“Oh, Juliana.  You don’t have to do anything.  But if you wish, perhaps you could crawl up here on the bed and sit next to me.  We could talk and tell each other about ourselves and what we envision our life together to be.  Would that be all right?”  He had attempted to speak with her this past week at tea, but now that he thought of it, her aunt and uncle had answered every question for her.  She had sat unresponsive to his attempts at conversation, alas.  This surely was going to be the longest night of his life.

“I’m sorry because of my hands, my lord.  I know how rough they are and not as soft and attractive as those of the ladies you are used to associating with.”

He realized she was right.  She’d had gloves on every time he had been with her previously.  “Let me feel them again.  I realize they are not as you would like them, but why have you not taken care of them?”

She told him of her chores at the Community Home and of the strong lye soaps used to scrub the floors and the cells.  He was stunned.  “Please, Juliana, let me see them again.  I am sorry you have been so badly treated.”  He reached for them again and she tentatively laid them out on the bed for him to examine.  He picked up one of them and again gently rubbed it with his thumb.  “I’ll see that you get some healing salve tomorrow that will make them feel so much better.”  He raised her fingers to his lips, placed a kiss in the palm, and raised it to her cheek.  “You’ll never again have to worry about being so treated, my dear.  That will be your first job as my wife.”

“What’s that, my lord . . . Logan?”

“To worry about yourself and heal any wounds left from your years in the Community.  I had no idea that this is what your life has been like.”  Had his father not asked questions?  My God!  He was married to a scrubwoman!

“I think I would like that, my lord.  I would like to hear about where our home will be and what my duties will be.”

Logan pulled up more pillows and placed them against the headboard next to him.  He then offered her his hand to help her up onto the high bed.  He settled her back against the pillows.  She looked shyly at him: his darkness and his strongly angled jaw made her turn quickly away.

“Now what can possibly be wrong, Juliana?”

“You still look so large and dark.  I’ve never seen a man with no clothes on before.  In fact, I’ve never seen anyone with no clothes on except for my little sister when we were very young.  It was considered a vile sin in the Community.   We were not even allowed to bathe without a covering.”

No wonder she was as skittish as a new colt, Logan thought.  How was he ever to make her feel safe with him?  “Those rules are over,” he exhorted.  “If we are to make a life together, you must begin to believe that I will do nothing to you that you do not want and that anything we wish to do with each other is not sinful.  Look at me Juliana, and tell me that you believe this to be true.”

She looked at him. “I will try my hardest, my lord. But…do you always go about with no clothes on?” she whispered in embarrassment.

“It’s Logan, remember?  And yes, I’m afraid I do.  There have never been any women in this house and so my brother and I were not used to worrying if we were covered or not.  The housekeeper always checked with Temple, our butler, to make sure we were not in the family wing of the house before she would allow the maids to come upstairs to clean.  As we grew older, we hired extra footmen to do the work.  So Phillip and I never thought twice about it.  I guess we’ll have to be careful now.  I’m sorry if it offends you.”

“I don’t mean to be offended, Logan, but you really are so . . .”

Logan grinned at her.  “No need to explain.  I’ll do my best to remember.  Now, please try to look at me.  I’m all covered up and before you melt into a puddle on the bed, please remove that extremely warm-looking robe.”

He was not all covered up.  His impressive chest with the sprinkling of smooth dark hair that arrowed down to his stomach was still visible and she tried not to look at him.  Staring across the room she said, “Oh, but all I have on under it is a very thin silk gown.  I could hardly bear it when my maid was dressing me.  I  couldn’t look.”  She buried her face in her hands.

“I’m beginning to believe that it is not me looking at you that is upsetting you as much as it is you looking at me.  Do you believe this to be true, Juliana?”

“Oh yes, my – Logan.  If I could only close my eyes until this night was over I do believe it would be so much easier for me.  I could pretend that it was happening to someone else.”

He groaned inwardly.  Just what a new husband wants to hear; that his bride would prefer to close her eyes and pretend that his love-making was happening to someone else.  After that put-down, he’d be lucky if his cock ever rose again.   And what if she rebuffed him?  He had never been with a woman who had not shown interest if not an outright passion for him.  It was about even in his mind, as to how many women had searched him out and how many women he had pursued.  True, he had invested more time gaining intimacy with some than with others.  That was how the game was played  But this was no game to Juliana. She was having none of it.

He reached over for the sash on her robe.  “Let me help you with this tie.  I’ve got an idea that may make you feel much safer.”

Untying her robe he pulled the sash from around her and as she gasped at his sudden movement, he reached up and wrapped it around her head, covering her eyes and tying it loosely at the back.  “How’s that now?  You don’t have to look at me and you don’t have to see me looking at you.  Is that better?”

“Oh, yes Logan.  I feel much safer now.”  To his surprise and satisfaction, he noted a small grin on her face.

“Good.  Then let’s get that hot robe off you so you can relax and just talk with me about what you most want in our marriage.”

She started shrugging the robe off and he reached over to help her.  As he pulled it down off her shoulders he inhaled quickly as he saw her lush breasts outlined in the sheer gown.  My God!  She was magnificent! Her nipples pushed against the silk telling him she was as tense as he.  But wryly, he was sure it was from a different cause.  He felt his groin begin to tighten and while he was relieved to know everything was still in working order, he knew he had a lot to do before he could claim her as his bride.  She seemed calm and he continued helping her remove the robe, pulling it out from beneath her and leaving her ankles and feet peeking out from the hem of the silk gown.  Although most of her face was covered by the sash, her upper lip was a full, lush cupid’s bow and her lower lip a smooth, perfect quarter moon.  It was all Logan could do to stop himself from placing his mouth on hers and sucking on that lip.  Dear God!  All this was going to be his if he could only manage to control his lust and seduce her slowly.  Very, very slowly.

Lord, she was beautiful.  How could she not know this?  But he had forgotten.  She hadn’t seen herself like this ever in her adult life.  He would make sure that was changed as soon as possible, but he knew he had to be careful not to frighten her.

“Is everything all right, Juliana?” he asked. “Do you feel safe?”

“Yes, Logan, I am so much more comfortable now.  Tell me about the home we will live in.  I am so anxious to live in a real home again.  The Community was so cold and sterile.  You would think that living with people who insist we pray to a God of love, they would also love the beauty he made on this earth. But everything was so cold and hard and gray.  I mean, there was no softness in anything.  Even this bed is like heaven, now that I can concentrate on the feel of it.”

Logan began telling Juliana about his life at Thornewood Hall.  He talked about his brother Phillip, and what his duties would entail now that the responsibilities of the estate were on his shoulders.  He talked and talked and finally wondered if she had become bored by it all.  Glancing at her he noticed that she had fallen asleep.  He reached over and pulled one of the pillows out from behind her. Wrapping an arm above her hips he pulled her down flat on the bed.  He held his breath, praying she wouldn’t awaken.  He had made such progress tonight and he was convinced she was no longer as afraid of him.  She seemed to be sound asleep and so he gently untied the sash from around her eyes.  The fire had burned down now and since it was cooler in the room, he pulled the sheet that covered him over and around her to keep her warm.  He pulled her head down onto his shoulder and wrapped his arm around her.  She slept on, exhausted from the day.  She moaned in her sleep and rolled over, away from him, curling her knees up and tucking her round little butt into his belly.  Oh, God!  It had been so long.  He started to harden as he snuggled her against him and curved his arm over her body, tucking his hand under one of those incredible breasts.  It filled his hand.  His long fingers curled around it as though it had been made for him.  His arousal was complete.  This wasn’t good.  If she woke up and found him pawing her like a clod, he would have to start over again tomorrow night.  He slid his hand slowly from beneath her satin covered breast and tried to be satisfied with the feel of her body spooned up close to him.  This would be his only reward tonight.  He listened to her breathing as it continued slow and even and finally, he too, dozed off.

The dawn crept in around the window drapes.  The fire had burned down to nothing and the candles had sputtered out.  He awakened with a shiver.  It was cold in the room and he wondered why his backside was so cold while the front of him was so warm.  He opened his eyes then and saw his wife snuggled into him.  He remembered what a long night it had been and wondered how much of it would remain a positive memory for her.  He carefully reached down to pull the satin coverlet up over their bodies.  She groaned and snuggled tighter.  She must have been cold too.  He was afraid to breathe.  He didn’t want her to awaken and become frightened, but his arm under her head was numb and prickling. He had to move. Gently he pulled it out from beneath her head and then she stretched and rolled over to face him.  He stared down at her and held his breath.  She seemed to move and get herself comfortable and just when he was ready to relax again, she opened her eyes, those beautiful turquoise eyes, and stared unblinking up at him.  She looked so surprised.  He could see her trying to piece together just where she was and why she was there with him.  Her mouth opened in amazement, but before she could say anything he grinned at her.

“Good morning, sweetheart.