Mary Balogh - Gentle conquest

And he had loved every moment. He was surprised. He had always dreamed of an academic career. He had never realized how close to the land his deepest feelings really were. He knew that he was peculiar. He even felt very self-conscious about admitting his interest to anyone outside Chartleigh. If he were a normal gentleman, he would not be concerned about such matters. He would be in London enjoying the Season, filling his days with card-playing, gossiping and shopping for new clothes, horses, and conveyances.

He did not now want to forget what he had learned in the spring. After his wife and his sister had left to make' their visit, he shut himself into the library and succeeded for a whole hour in concentrating on the books he had had his bailiff bring in for him during the morning.

It was a heroic achievement. He was very tired, having had a sleepless night. And it was very difficult to keep his mind from personal matters that were trying to claim his attention. Finally he pushed the books away with a sigh, got up from his desk, and stood at the window looking out along the poplar grove down which he and Georgiana had led their horses a few hours before.

This was the day after his wedding day. He should be in a state of ecstasy. He should be with his wife, inseparable from her during the days of their honeymoon. He had made such a disaster of the whole business. He loved Georgiana. He wanted to be with her, beginning a friendship with her. They were still virtual strangers. These days at Chartleigh should give them the perfect opportunity. But within a day of their marriage he had given her every reason to despise, even hate him. It said a great deal for the sweetness of her character that she had agreed to ride with him that morning and had behaved with such courtesy toward him.

He had made a dreadful ruin of their wedding night. He felt hot with embarrassment and humiliation at the memory. He had been unable to quieten her fears, unable to control his own desire long enough for her to relax in his arms and be ready for his invasion, and finally incapable of consummating the marriage. And he had left her like a small boy in disgrace, to hide his head in shame, instead of waiting until they were both ready to proceed. He hated to imagine the kind of distress in which he must have left Georgiana.

He was a man, in years anyway. And he had begun recently to feel confident in his own maturity and ability to run his life as he saw fit. Yet in this one area of his life he seemed quite incapable of acting like a man. His main responsibility the night before had been to reassure a shy and frightened bride, to make her his wife while giving her as little pain as possible. And he had failed miserably. There was little point, he supposed, in going over the facts yet again. He had thought of nothing else during the long night, which he had spent out-of-doors wandering around he knew not where. But he had still not come to any conclusions. What was to be done about the situation?

He had never really wanted any woman before, except perhaps that little barmaid for a few mad minutes. But he wanted Georgiana. He was thoroughly enchanted with her. Much of the time she seemed so shy that he wanted to fold her in his arms and protect her from all the threats of the world. But there were surprising little flashes of spirit that made him think that there was a very interesting character behind the shyness. He wanted to get to know that character and help her to develop it. And there was occasionally a directness about her that he found surprising. This morning, for example, she had not said whether she disapproved of his strange theories on estate management. But she had quite skillfully drawn from him an admission that he was satisfied with his own ideas, unconventional though they were. She had made him feel good about himself. She could be a good friend, he suspected.

Perhaps he could still cultivate her friendship. Perhaps it was not too late for that. She had been willing to ride and walk with him and had not avoided talking to him. But he had to admit that his desire for her went beyond the need for friendship. He felt a sexual desire for her. Her small, light figure made him feel protective and excited him. Yet she had a shapely body. Ralph's cheeks grew hot at the memory of her breasts pressing against his chest, her thighs soft against his. He could remember, though with some humiliation, how small and feminine she had felt beneath him on the bed.

He wanted her. He wanted to go to her again that night and make love to her in a manner that would erase her fears and perhaps bring pleasure to her as well as to himself. He wanted to be fully married to Georgiana. He wanted to put his seed inside her.

But he dared not. He had decided that the night before. He could not go to her tonight and risk the same outcome. He would not do that to her. He remembered unwillingly just how very frightened she had been, prattling away to him in bed, yet obviously not knowing what she said. And it was so out of character for Georgiana to prattle. He wondered if she was blaming herself for what had happened. Perhaps she thought she was not desirable enough to attract him. His behavior must have gone a long way to destroy any confidence in herself that she might have. If he repeated the failure tonight, he might destroy entirely her faith in her own femininity.

And he had hurt her. Ralph closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the cool pane of the window. God, he had hurt her. She had cried out to him that he was hurting her. He shuddered. Poor little girl! She deserved so much better. She deserved a husband who could at least make love to her without hurting her.

He had decided the night before that he must try to win her trust and her friendship. Perhaps in time, when they grew accustomed to each other, when they came to like each other, and to be relaxed in each other's presence, their relationship could take on a physical dimension. He would not hesitate to touch her: hold her hand sometimes, touch her cheek, even kiss her-that brief kiss this morning had been achingly sweet. But he would not rush her into deeper intimacies. Those would come when they were both ready for them-he hoped! He dreaded to think of what would happen if he found himself forever incapable of being a man for her.

Georgiana came bouncing into the house an hour later looking anything but the shy, homesick girl that Ralph pictured to himself. She threw her bonnet and gloves in the general direction of an oak chest that stood in the hallway, called to the butler to ask where his lordship was, and strode toward the library, calling over her shoulder for Gloria to follow her. She threw open the door to the library before the butler could scurry across the hallway to perform the honors for her.

"Ralph," she said as soon as she saw that he was indeed in the room. He was seated in a deep leather chair beside the fireplace, reading. "Such an afternoon! We met three of our neighbors: a Mrs. Horsley and her daughter and Lady Quentin. Gloria presented me and they declared their intention of calling on me tomorrow. They would have come today, they said, but they thought that perhaps we needed a day to rest after our journey from London. Was not that foolish? And we went into the milliner's shop, where there was a chip bonnet that looks just perfect on Gloria, but she would not buy it because she said she does not need more bonnets. You must persuade her to purchase it, Ralph. It was just made for her. The vicar's housekeeper made us some tea when we called. And you did not tell me that Gloria and the Reverend Boscome are betrothed. I was never more surprised in my life, especially to know that they have been betrothed for six years." She paused for breath.

Ralph had jumped up in surprise when his wife first entered the room without a knock or a footman to announce her arrival. He watched her and listened with growing enchantment as she spoke. Her face was alight, her eyes sparkling and her cheeks flushed from the walk. He was smiling by the time she paused.