Once and Always
Page 92
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“I’m referring to the sort of intimate things your parents did when you were in your own bed,” he said bluntly, “and they were in theirs.”
A long-ago memory paraded across her mind—a memory of her parents standing outside her mother’s bedroom door, and her father’s pleading voice as he tried to hold his wife in his arms—“Don’t keep denying me, Katherine. For God’s sake, don’t!”
Her mother had been denying her father her bed, Victoria realized weakly. And then she remembered how hurt and desperate her father had seemed that night and how furious she had been with her mother for hurting him. Her parents were friends, true enough, but her mother did not love her father. Katherine had loved Charles Fielding, and because she did, she had barred her husband from her bed after Dorothy was born.
Victoria bit her lip, remembering how lonely her father had often seemed. She wondered if all men felt lonely—or perhaps what they felt was rejected—if their wives refused them their bed.
Her mother had not loved her father, she knew, but they had been friends. Friends . . . She was trying to make Jason into her friend, she realized suddenly, exactly as she’d seen her mother do to her father.
“You’re a warm woman, Victoria, full of life and courage. Forget about the sorts of marriages you’ve seen amongst the ton—they’re empty and unsatisfying and superficial. Think about your parents’ marriage instead. They were happy, weren’t they?”
Her prolonged silence made Captain Farrell frown and abruptly change his tack. “Never mind about your parents’ marriage. I know about men, and I know Jason, so I want you to remember one thing. If a woman locks her husband out of her bedroom, he will lock her out of his heart. At least he will if he has any pride. And Jason has a great deal of it. He won’t grovel at your feet or beg you for your favors. You’ve withheld yourself from him; now it’s up to you to make certain he understands you don’t wish to do so any longer.”
“How am I supposed to do that?”
“Not,” he said succinctly, “by suggesting that he play chess. And not by thinking it’s considerate of him to go to another woman, either.” Captain Farrell rubbed the muscles at the back of his neck. “I never realized how difficult it must be for a man to raise a daughter. There are some things that are very hard to discuss with the opposite sex.”
Victoria stood up restlessly. “I’ll think about everything you said,” she promised, trying to hide her embarrassment.
“May I ask you something,” he said hesitantly.
“I suppose it’s only fair,” Victoria said with a winsome smile, hiding her dread. “After all, I’ve asked you a great deal.”
“Didn’t anyone ever talk about married love with you?”
“It isn’t the sort of thing one discusses with anyone except one’s mother,” Victoria said, flushing again. “One hears about one’s marital duty, of course, but somehow you don’t really understand—”
“Duty!” he said in disgust. “In my country, a lass is eager for her wedding night. Go home and seduce your husband, my girl, and he’ll take care of the rest. You won’t look upon it as a duty after that. I know Jason well enough to assure you of that fact!”
“And if I—I do what you say, then will he be happy with me?”
“Yes,” Captain Farrell said gently, smiling. “And he’ll make you happy in return.”
Victoria put down her untouched glass of whiskey. “I know little about marriage, less about being a wife, and absolutely nothing about seduction.”
Captain Farrell looked at the exotic young beauty standing before him, and his shoulders shook with silent laughter. “I don’t think you’ll have to try very hard to seduce Jason, my dear. As soon as he realizes you want him in your bed, I feel certain he’ll be more than happy to oblige.”
Victoria turned pink as roses, smiled weakly, and headed for the door.
She rode home on Matador, so lost in thought that she was scarcely aware of the magnificent gelding’s progress. By the time she galloped to a stop in front of Wakefield Park, she was certain of at least one thing: she did not want Jason to have a marriage that left him as lonely as her father had been.
Submitting to Jason in bed would not be such a terrible thing, especially if—at other times—he might kiss her again in that bold, intimate way of his, pressing his mouth to hers and doing those shocking things with his tongue that made her senses swim and her body hot and weak. Instead of thinking of new gowns, as Miss Flossie had suggested, when Jason was in her bed, she would think of the way he used to kiss her. Having come that far, she even admitted to herself that she had loved his kisses. A pity men didn’t do that sort of thing when they were in bed, she thought. It would have made the whole thing so much nicer. Evidently, kissing was done when one was out of bed, but in bed, men did what they’d had in mind all along.
“I don’t care!” Victoria said with great determination as a groom ran out and helped her alight. She was resolved to endure anything to make Jason happy and restore their former closeness. According to Captain Farrell, all she had to do now was hint to Jason that she wanted to share her bed with him.
She went into the house. “Is Lord Fielding at home?” she asked Northrup.
“Yes, my lady,” he said, bowing. “He is in his study.”
“Is he alone?”
“Yes, my lady.” Northrup bowed again.
Victoria thanked him and went down the hall. She opened the door to the study and quietly slipped inside. Jason was seated at his desk at the opposite end of the long room, his profile turned to her, a sheaf of papers at his elbow, another in his hand. Victoria looked at him, at the little boy who had risen from his squalid childhood and grown into a handsome, wealthy, powerful man. He had amassed a fortune and bought estates, forgiven his father, and housed an orphan from America. And he was still alone. Still working, still trying.
“I love you,” she thought, and the unbidden thought nearly sent her to her knees. She had loved Andrew forever. But if that was true, why hadn’t she ever felt this driving desperation to make Andrew happy? She loved Jason, despite her father’s warning, despite Jason’s own warning that he didn’t want her love, only her body. How odd that Jason should have the very thing he didn’t want, and not what he did. How determined she was to make him want both.
A long-ago memory paraded across her mind—a memory of her parents standing outside her mother’s bedroom door, and her father’s pleading voice as he tried to hold his wife in his arms—“Don’t keep denying me, Katherine. For God’s sake, don’t!”
Her mother had been denying her father her bed, Victoria realized weakly. And then she remembered how hurt and desperate her father had seemed that night and how furious she had been with her mother for hurting him. Her parents were friends, true enough, but her mother did not love her father. Katherine had loved Charles Fielding, and because she did, she had barred her husband from her bed after Dorothy was born.
Victoria bit her lip, remembering how lonely her father had often seemed. She wondered if all men felt lonely—or perhaps what they felt was rejected—if their wives refused them their bed.
Her mother had not loved her father, she knew, but they had been friends. Friends . . . She was trying to make Jason into her friend, she realized suddenly, exactly as she’d seen her mother do to her father.
“You’re a warm woman, Victoria, full of life and courage. Forget about the sorts of marriages you’ve seen amongst the ton—they’re empty and unsatisfying and superficial. Think about your parents’ marriage instead. They were happy, weren’t they?”
Her prolonged silence made Captain Farrell frown and abruptly change his tack. “Never mind about your parents’ marriage. I know about men, and I know Jason, so I want you to remember one thing. If a woman locks her husband out of her bedroom, he will lock her out of his heart. At least he will if he has any pride. And Jason has a great deal of it. He won’t grovel at your feet or beg you for your favors. You’ve withheld yourself from him; now it’s up to you to make certain he understands you don’t wish to do so any longer.”
“How am I supposed to do that?”
“Not,” he said succinctly, “by suggesting that he play chess. And not by thinking it’s considerate of him to go to another woman, either.” Captain Farrell rubbed the muscles at the back of his neck. “I never realized how difficult it must be for a man to raise a daughter. There are some things that are very hard to discuss with the opposite sex.”
Victoria stood up restlessly. “I’ll think about everything you said,” she promised, trying to hide her embarrassment.
“May I ask you something,” he said hesitantly.
“I suppose it’s only fair,” Victoria said with a winsome smile, hiding her dread. “After all, I’ve asked you a great deal.”
“Didn’t anyone ever talk about married love with you?”
“It isn’t the sort of thing one discusses with anyone except one’s mother,” Victoria said, flushing again. “One hears about one’s marital duty, of course, but somehow you don’t really understand—”
“Duty!” he said in disgust. “In my country, a lass is eager for her wedding night. Go home and seduce your husband, my girl, and he’ll take care of the rest. You won’t look upon it as a duty after that. I know Jason well enough to assure you of that fact!”
“And if I—I do what you say, then will he be happy with me?”
“Yes,” Captain Farrell said gently, smiling. “And he’ll make you happy in return.”
Victoria put down her untouched glass of whiskey. “I know little about marriage, less about being a wife, and absolutely nothing about seduction.”
Captain Farrell looked at the exotic young beauty standing before him, and his shoulders shook with silent laughter. “I don’t think you’ll have to try very hard to seduce Jason, my dear. As soon as he realizes you want him in your bed, I feel certain he’ll be more than happy to oblige.”
Victoria turned pink as roses, smiled weakly, and headed for the door.
She rode home on Matador, so lost in thought that she was scarcely aware of the magnificent gelding’s progress. By the time she galloped to a stop in front of Wakefield Park, she was certain of at least one thing: she did not want Jason to have a marriage that left him as lonely as her father had been.
Submitting to Jason in bed would not be such a terrible thing, especially if—at other times—he might kiss her again in that bold, intimate way of his, pressing his mouth to hers and doing those shocking things with his tongue that made her senses swim and her body hot and weak. Instead of thinking of new gowns, as Miss Flossie had suggested, when Jason was in her bed, she would think of the way he used to kiss her. Having come that far, she even admitted to herself that she had loved his kisses. A pity men didn’t do that sort of thing when they were in bed, she thought. It would have made the whole thing so much nicer. Evidently, kissing was done when one was out of bed, but in bed, men did what they’d had in mind all along.
“I don’t care!” Victoria said with great determination as a groom ran out and helped her alight. She was resolved to endure anything to make Jason happy and restore their former closeness. According to Captain Farrell, all she had to do now was hint to Jason that she wanted to share her bed with him.
She went into the house. “Is Lord Fielding at home?” she asked Northrup.
“Yes, my lady,” he said, bowing. “He is in his study.”
“Is he alone?”
“Yes, my lady.” Northrup bowed again.
Victoria thanked him and went down the hall. She opened the door to the study and quietly slipped inside. Jason was seated at his desk at the opposite end of the long room, his profile turned to her, a sheaf of papers at his elbow, another in his hand. Victoria looked at him, at the little boy who had risen from his squalid childhood and grown into a handsome, wealthy, powerful man. He had amassed a fortune and bought estates, forgiven his father, and housed an orphan from America. And he was still alone. Still working, still trying.
“I love you,” she thought, and the unbidden thought nearly sent her to her knees. She had loved Andrew forever. But if that was true, why hadn’t she ever felt this driving desperation to make Andrew happy? She loved Jason, despite her father’s warning, despite Jason’s own warning that he didn’t want her love, only her body. How odd that Jason should have the very thing he didn’t want, and not what he did. How determined she was to make him want both.
