A Most Unsuitable Earl (Regency Collection Book 3) Page 7

  As if she hadn’t noticed her hesitation, Rachel said, “I remember how nervous I was my first time. I gripped the bed sheets and kept darting glances at the door connecting my bedchamber with my husband’s.” She giggled. “When he came to my bedchamber, he took one look at me and left. I thought he was disappointed in me, but I later learned he was afraid he’d disappoint me.”

  “He was?”

  Rachel laughed. “I didn’t understand it either until he confided in me, but that wasn’t until we’d been married for a year.”

  “It didn’t take a year to…to…” Catherine couldn’t bring herself to say the actual words, so she motioned for Rachel to continue.

  “Oh, no. Thank goodness. Ethan was born fourteen months after we married. That wouldn’t have happened if it’d taken his father a year to do his duty.”

  “How long did it take for him to do his…um…duty?”

  “He made sure the marriage was consummated the next night because he knew he needed an heir. Our marriage had been arranged, so I barely knew him. He married me for my money. That was no secret. I think we hadn’t spoken more than a few words to each other before the wedding. But I was very fortunate, for he turned out to be a wonderful gentleman.” Rachel smiled at whatever memories played in her mind.

  After a moment, Catherine ventured, “So how was it?” Her face warming from embarrassment over asking the question, she cleared her throat. “I mean, the wedding night.”

  “A bit of a disappointment, though I didn’t realize that until later when I learned what I was capable of feeling when in bed with him. But I suspect it was because he was untried in the ways of a gentleman and lady when they’re in bed.”

  “He was?”

  “He was a couple years younger than me, so he hadn’t had time to venture around town to seek his pleasure. His concern was marrying a lady to secure his financial affairs. His father left him in a terrible situation, so his guardian encouraged the match as soon as he turned eighteen.”

  Forgetting her nervousness, Catherine set her teacup on the table and turned to her. “And your father agreed?”

  “I wasn’t getting any younger, and I had no prospects. It was my only chance to marry, and I knew I better take it.”

  “Really?”

  She chuckled. “I did my best to find a husband before then, I assure you. I suppose there was something about me that gentlemen didn’t fancy.”

  “I find that hard to believe since you’re so talkative. What I mean is that you’re not shy. You can talk to anyone.” It was something Catherine envied about her.

  “That was part of my problem. I talked too much. I think most gentlemen prefer a lady who knows when to keep quiet. Fortunately, Ethan’s father enjoyed listening to me talk. He was a gentleman of few words. He said I could do the talking for both of us.”

  She smiled. “Then it seems like he was the perfect gentleman for you to marry.”

  “He was. I wouldn’t have wanted to marry another. When I saw you at your father’s ball, you reminded me of my dear husband. He had a tendency to find a quiet place to sit. He never enjoyed being the center of attention.” She patted Catherine’s hand. “Once you know what it’s like to be in a good marriage, you don’t want to settle for anything less. And I believe you and Ethan can have the same thing his father and I had. While I admit he has an undesirable reputation, he takes after me in other ways. I don’t know if you’ve noticed the way he can talk to others, no matter how many people are gathered around him?”

  “Yes, I did notice that.” Catherine tapped her foot on the rug and took a deep breath before she blurted out, “Exactly what were the actions involved in your…time…with your husband?”

  “Oh yes. I must get to that. You’ll need to know it for tonight.” She drank the rest of her tea and set the cup on the tray before focusing on her. “Gentlemen aren’t built like us. Their chests are flat. Ours aren’t.”

  “Mine is flatter than most women’s.”

  “You needn’t worry about that. As long as there’s something, gentlemen are happy. There’s another difference between them and us that makes them even happier. While we have nothing between our legs, they do.”

  Catherine knew she shouldn’t be surprised by the lady’s boldness, but her face went from warm to uncomfortably hot. And even as that was the case, she leaned toward Rachel in interest.

  “I don’t know how to describe it,” Rachel continued. “At first glance, it’s intimidating, but after you get used to it, you wonder why it seemed so imposing.” With a shrug, she poured more tea in her cup. “Would you like some?”

  Catherine shook her head, her heart hammering in her chest. “Imposing?”

  “I apologize. I didn’t mean to frighten you. I know you’re nervous enough as it is.” She set the teapot down and turned to face her. “It’s an appendage. It’s attached to them and its purpose is to go inside us so we can get a child. And don’t be afraid if you notice it growing or shrinking. When the gentleman comes to bed, it’s going to be longer than when he leaves. It has to be long enough to get inside. Do you understand?”

  Uncertain, she gave a slight shake of her head.

  Rachel sighed. “Maybe it’s something you have to experience to understand. Well, perhaps the best thing to focus on is making the experience as painless as possible. There’s not much you can do. Coming to the marriage as a virgin is a badge of virtue, of course, but I often thought it was highly unfair that ladies must endure some pain.”

  “Pain?” Why didn’t her father warn her of this?

  “Not to worry, dear. I snuck out some olive oil from the kitchen. While it’s not the most pleasant thing to do, if you use some of this between your legs, it’ll help the process along and hopefully lessen your discomfort. I put the oil next to your bed. I hid it under a hat I bought for you. There’s no need to let the servants see it, but you’re better off using it. Now, you mustn’t be discouraged if your first time is disappointing. The best thing you can do is explore yourself to find out what you like or don’t like, and then teach him what to do.” She let out a low groan. “Though I suppose my son already knows how to please a lady.”

  Catherine stared at her, hardly believing her ears. Granted, Rachel wasn’t known for acting inappropriately, but when no one was around, she was even bolder than Ethan. No wonder he turned out the way he did! Looking pleased, Rachel drank the rest of her tea. Unsure of what else to say, Catherine turned her attention back to her teacup and sipped her tea.

  ***

  That night Catherine waited for Ethan to come to her bedchamber. She even left the candle on so he could find his way to her. She had the covers pulled up to her chin and wore her shift, but all she had to do was remove the covers and lift her shift and let him stick his thing into her.

  After a long internal debate, she even used some of the olive oil his mother gave her. The process of putting it where it needed to be was messy and, for lack of a better term, disgusting, but she did it because she wished to make the consummation go faster and with as little pain as possible.

  She was sure he would come to her bed before midnight. But when the clock chimed one, she let out a huff and threw the covers off of her so she could cross the room and go to the door connecting their bedchambers. He better not be out with someone else tonight! It was bad enough she had to marry him, but to be deserted on her wedding night in favor of another bed partner made her blood boil with rage. Of all nights, this was the one reserved for her. Her resolve strengthened, she flung the door open and entered his room.

  To her surprise, he was asleep. He bolted up in his bed, his hair ruffled and his eyes wide. “I don’t want to fence!” He blinked in the moonlight and rubbed his eyes. “Where am I?”

  Seeing that as her cue, she rushed forward and stood by his bed. “Not with me, which is where you’re supposed to be. Do I have to tell you what you’re supposed to do on your wedding night?”

  “I…uh…” He blinked several more
times and stared at her. “I didn’t think you’d want me to be with you tonight.”

  What did her wants have to do with anything? Her duty was to give him an heir. Exasperated, she sighed. “When were you planning on coming to my bed?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know!”

  She placed her hands on her hips and glared at him, but the effect was probably lost on him since it was dark and he couldn’t see much of her. Inspired, she went to his table and lit a candle. There. Now that he could properly see her disgust, she hurried back over to him and glared at him once more.

  He rolled his eyes. “I was doing it for you. I thought you wouldn’t want me in your bed, given how much you loathe me.”

  “This has nothing to do with how I feel about you.”

  “It doesn’t?”

  “No, it doesn’t. We have a duty to the crown.”

  He groaned and placed his head in his hands. “You sound just like my mother.”

  Too annoyed to be nervous, she grunted and pulled her shift off. “I don’t care if I sound like her or not. We’re going to get this over with.” She picked up his covers and nudged him in the side. “Move over so I can get in. I’ll go back to my bed once you’re done.”

  Chapter Nine

  For the life of him, Ethan had no idea how Catherine ended up climbing into his bed. He went to sleep, like he did every night, and the next thing he knew, he was being woken up from a horrible nightmare where the Duke of Rumsey had invited him over for fencing—and he had a fiendish gleam in his eye as he made the invite. Even now, the dream chilled him to the bone. But Catherine was pushing at him to move over, taking his mind off of it.

  Grunting as she accidently elbowed him in the side, he scrambled over to his side of the bed. “Ouch! You’re hurting me.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to touch you.”

  He rolled his eyes. “You didn’t mean to touch me? Good heavens, Catherine, isn’t that why you’re in here?”

  She finally settled into a comfortable spot on the bed and cleared her throat. “I’m here to do my duty.”

  So she was determined to get this over with. Well, maybe it was better they did this now. Then she could go back to her own bed, and he could go back to sleep. He sighed and finally looked at her. She was lying next to him with the covers up to her neck. Resisting the urge to tell her that she’d need to lower the covers if she expected him to consummate the marriage, he slipped out of the bed to retrieve the jar of olive oil Agatha gave him.

  “You’re not leaving, are you?” she asked, sitting up.

  Since she forgot to hold onto the covers, he got a good view of her perky breasts. Unable to take his eyes off the beautiful sight, he miscalculated where he was walking and stubbed his toe on the corner of the bed. He yelped in pain and grabbed his foot.

  “You’re not getting out of this,” she said, crossing her arms, a process that only served to bring her breasts together. “Ethan!”

  Surprised she said his name, he stopped rubbing his toe and directed his attention to her face. “What?”

  “I said that I hope you don’t think hurting your toe is a reason to delay what’s supposed to happen tonight.”

  He rolled his eyes. “I don’t think that.”

  If he did try getting out of consummating the marriage at this point, the duke would probably assume he preferred other ladies to his precious daughter. He thought Catherine would welcome his absence tonight, but now that he knew otherwise, it would behoove him to get the deed over with so she wouldn’t run to her father about it. At least this way, she would learn the marital bed was dreadful for a lady and leave him alone. And who knew? Perhaps she’d conceive right away and that would be the end of it. Then his mother would be happy as well.

  As he retrieved the jar from the cabinet, he couldn’t help but think that everyone else was going to be happy about the consummation of his marriage except for him. He strode back to his side of the bed, determined to get this ordeal over with. Her father said he wanted him to be gentle and quick. He wondered just how quick “quick” was supposed to be.

  He set the jar on the small table by his bed and, without looking at her, removed his clothes. When she gasped, he glanced at her. “What?”

  “So that’s what an appendage looks like.”

  He followed her gaze and saw his not-so-erect member. His face warm since it probably didn’t seem that impressive in a flaccid state, he said, “It gets bigger. My toe still hurts, so I’m distracted.” That and thinking of her father and his mother wasn’t helping matters at all.

  “It gets bigger? How do you make it bigger?”

  Suddenly feeling awkward, he slipped under the covers so she was no longer staring at it. “I don’t know. It just gets bigger.”

  “Can’t you control it?”

  “Not really.”

  “Why not? It’s a part of your body.”

  She tried to lift the covers to see it again, but he placed his hands over the part of him she had referred to as his ‘appendage’. “The proper term is penis.”

  “Penis?”

  “There are other terms for it, but I never understood why they don’t just call it what it is.”

  Leaning forward in interest, she asked, “What else can you call it?”

  He paused, uncertain of how to answer her. “I don’t think this is the kind of discussion we should be having,” he finally replied.

  “Why not? You’re about to stick your appendage—penis—in me. I think I have a right to know what I can call it.”

  “You can call it what it is.”

  “I don’t care for the word ‘penis’. Certainly there must be a prettier word for it.”

  He looked at her in disbelief. A prettier word for penis? “A penis isn’t supposed to have a pretty word for it. It’s part of a gentleman’s body, not a lady’s.”

  “Let me see it again. Then I can think up a good term for it since you won’t give me one.”

  She tried to get another look at it, but he held her hands to stop her from picking up the covers.

  “Fine. Other terms are rod, pole…staff.”

  She scrunched her nose and shook her head. “I don’t like any of those terms either.”

  “Then just call it what it is.”

  Catherine seemed disappointed but didn’t press him further. Turning his attention to the table by the bed, he picked up the jar and removed the lid. “I got something to help you as we—” he struggled to find the right word—“consummate this marriage.”

  “What is it?”

  “Just something to put down there, between your legs.”

  “Does that mean you’ll be touching me?”

  “I have to. This isn’t something we can do apart from each other,” he replied. “Do you understand what’s going to happen?”

  “Of course I do. I’m not as ignorant as you’d believe.”

  “You’ve done this before?”

  Her eyes grew wide. “No. I wouldn’t dare do such a thing and disgrace my father!”

  “Then how do you know what’s going to happen?”

  “I’ve figured it out,” she said, trying to appear nonchalant even as her face grew a pretty shade of pink.

  “How is that possible when you didn’t even know what a penis looked like?”

  He waited for her to respond, but since she didn’t, he guessed exactly how she knew. Leave it to his mother to stick her nose in where it didn’t belong. Deciding to let the matter go, he pulled back the covers. Granted, it meant she could now see him, but there was little he could do about that. At least, he got a chance to see all of her, too, and he definitely liked what he was seeing.

  “Your penis does get bigger,” she commented, sitting up so she could more closely inspect him.

  He’d been so busy checking out her breasts and the reddish-blonde triangle of curls between her legs that he hadn’t noted his erection. Despite the fact that she was examining
him with greater interest than he figured a virgin had the right to have, he poured five drops of olive oil on his fingers and grimaced. What was Agatha thinking in giving him this? Sure, it was slippery, but it made him think of food, not lovemaking.

  He cleared his throat and motioned to the pillow. “You should lie down for this.”

  “Oh! Right.”

  She quickly obeyed, something he didn’t expect her to actually do since she’d made it a habit of arguing with him. With a shake of his head, he ignored the way she inclined her head so she could still inspect him as he stretched out next to her. At least only one candle lit the room. Things were more romantic that way, as romantic as an awkward first time could be anyway. Truth be told, this had to be the most unromantic wedding night any couple could endure.

  Pushing aside his apprehension, he brought his hand between her legs. “I think this would go easier if you spread your legs.”

  She looked up from his erection and nodded. “You’re right. That thing can’t go in me if I don’t.”

  So they were now calling his penis a thing. Well, he could live with that. It was better than some ‘pretty’ name. He rubbed the oil between his fingers before brushing her entrance. She was soft and already slick, making it easy for him to insert a finger into her. He was surprised by how naturally he went into her. She shifted, an action which allowed him to slide deeper inside.

  She let out a contented sigh and asked, “What are you putting in me?”

  He considered lying to her because he didn’t think she’d appreciate him using something only Cook was supposed to use, but he figured since it was her body, he better tell her the truth. She’d have to clean it all up later anyway. “It’s olive oil. It’s supposed to help you get ready for me.”

  “Olive oil? Why didn’t you say so before? I already put some in there.”