to try to make him love her? ‘Twas impossible.
“Talk. About what?”
He rubbed her shoulders. “It matters not to me. We can discuss anything you like.”
Marianne put away her comb and thought it over. It was an opportunity to get to know him as more than just the Earl of Graystone and the husband she occasionally saw, but as the man who defended her against her father and kept his promise when he did not have to.
She would at least know who would bed her tomorrow night. Perhaps that man would even be her friend. He was being generous with her, he could have offered her much less. He could give her nothing but misery. He could take her right now.
“Very well, that sounds acceptable.” She nearly winced with her words. How formal she sounded to her own husband.
“Good,” He replied.
Marianne heard the shuffling of clothes and turned around, only to cover her eyes and spin in the other direction.
“You’re naked!”
“Yes, I am preparing for bed.”
“But, but—”
“We are husband and wife, and I am growing weary of sleeping in my night clothes. Stop being cowardly and look at me.”
With a spine so stiff she thought it would crack, Marianne turned around and did look. She would not allow him to call her a coward.
She refused to look below his neck and kept her eyes on his face, however. The swine was smirking again, but he didn’t move.
He was waiting.
Without meaning to or with her consent, her eyes traveled downwards.
The light of the fire, the only source of light, danced across his body and bathed him in an orange glow. She could see every ripple of muscle and every light colored hair curling on his chest. Thin, faded scars from past battles and training games crisscrossed in random places along his naked skin, and the water that seeped through his clothes now glistened against his chest in the firelight.
The sight made her smile with the simplicity of it. ‘Twas nothing horrifying hidden under his clothes, nothing that should cause her to fear.
Aside from the organ between his legs—which she refused to look at—and the lack of large breasts, he was rather similar to herself. Arms, legs, knees, and toes. Nothing frightening.
Marianne relaxed her body. There was no sin in this. She was simply looking at the chest of a man who happened to be her husband. No sin at all.
The golden hair on his chest circled his dark nipples before traveling down into a fine trail that led to his—
Marianne looked away again, heat flooding her face to the point that she thought she would sweat blood. At his amused chuckle she returned her eyes to their former position, though the heat still assaulted her face.
Not a coward. She was not a coward.
The blond hairs became darker, though not as dark as she was down there, and within them nestled his … Marianne was unsure of how to describe it. It was simply there. Never before had she seen that area of a man, or any naked area of a man. Even when she walked in on the servants loving they were always fully clothed, and while her inexperience prevented her from deciding whether or not she liked what she saw, she knew that she would have to get used to that part of him as well, and soon.
The hair became light again as it traveled down his legs, legs that were so much larger than hers, skin stretched with muscle, his feet alone were frightening in their size.
Her eyes traveled over him again, quicker this time, and suddenly she felt as though she were not getting the entire portrait.
“Turn around,”
He raised a brow. “You wish me to bare my back to you?”
“Aye,”
“May I ask why?”
The heat that had fled her face when she accustomed herself to his body returned with fever. She could not explain why she wanted to see his other side, but ‘twas an urge that would not be ignored.
Her spine stiffened as she fought back the irritation that threatened to bubble to the surface. If he was so eager for her to see him naked then what was his business in making her feel awkward for wishing to see all of him?
She was at a loss for words when William shook his head and did as she bid. “Very well, I never knew women to be interested in that part of a man’s anatomy.”
“Perhaps you have as much to learn as I.”
She meant naught by the words, but