She felt a little breathless. “No. No. But perhaps that should be enough for tonight.”
“Oh, I doubt a little more kissing will prove disastrous, my dear. You liked it, did you not?”
“Um . . . yes. But it was beginning to make me nervous.”
“Ah . . . nervous.” He twined the fingers of one hand with hers, and used them to draw her closer again. “I would not have guessed you to be a woman of nervous disposition.”
“I'm not! In the ordinary way I haven't the least tendency toward nerves, I promise you.”
“Good. I think it would be most difficult to live with someone of a nervous disposition.” He bent his head to kiss her again, allowing his lips to linger on hers for some time. “Does that make you nervous?”
The tugs of urgency had indeed returned. Prudence nodded.
“I see,” he said, looking fascinated. He bent his head and began to nibble on her ear. “And that?”
She blinked at him and nodded.
He dropped his lips to the hollow at the base of her neck and kissed that in a most disconcerting way. “That doesn't make you nervous, surely,” he suggested.
“But it does.” Each time his lips touched her, the same tightening occurred. Her body felt on the edge of a precipice.
“Perhaps it would be better if you kissed me, and I merely stood here.”
“I can't see why.”
“Well, if my kissing you is making you nervous, then your kissing me should not. I mean, you would be the one actively engaged.”
“You're mocking me,” she grumbled.
Ledbetter shook his head. “I think you should find out what happens if
you
kiss
me
.”
She stood on tiptoe and placed a short, firm kiss on his lips. He said patiently, “No, you have to kiss me as though you meant it.”
Reluctantly Prudence put her arms around his neck and pulled his head down to hers. Then she tried to duplicate the kind of kiss he had offered her, where she moved her lips on his and exerted pressure to get a response from him. Though she felt certain she was doing it correctly, he made no attempt to meet her pressure with any resistance, or to actively engage her. She realized the frustration he must feel when she didn't respond and she moved a little away from him to meet his gaze.
“You could kiss me, too,” she suggested. “I wouldn't mind.”
“Yes, but it might make you nervous.”
“I would prefer being nervous to feeling ridiculous.”
“Then of course I will kiss you back,” he agreed.
Prudence once again put her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his. This time he met her kiss with a tender but delightful response. Prudence found it very exciting to elicit such a direct sensation in answer to her simple touch. If she thought he would take over for her, however, she was mistaken. Ledbetter still awaited her lead. And Prudence rather liked that arrangement.
But the nervousness had definitely returned.
There was a tightness to various locations in her body, which seemed to occur whether it was she doing the kissing, or Ledbetter responding to her. She found herself pressed against his body, her breasts tingling in a most unusual fashion. But even more disconcerting was that aching feeling between her legs which seemed to deepen with the kisses.
Her breathing had quickened, and it was difficult for her to remember what it was she didn't like about the nervousness that kissing brought on. It was unsettling, certainly, but also extremely pleasurable in some ways. She was almost disappointed when Ledbetter drew back and smiled at her.
“Thank you, my dear,” he said, carrying her hand to his lips to kiss. “That was very brave of you. I trust you are not overcome by nerves.”
“Of course not. I think I could grow accustomed to such a slight indisposition.”
“You do?”
“Yes, so long as it goes away afterwards.”
He observed her closely. “And has it gone away—this indisposition?”
Prudence could not truthfully say that it had, but it was diminishing. “It's not so strong now. I imagine that in a few moments I shall be perfectly back to normal.”
“No doubt,” he said dryly.
“Don't you want me to be back to normal?” she asked, puzzled.
“Well, no. I would prefer that you acclimate yourself to what you call the 'nervousness.' Though you are apparently unaccustomed to it, it is your body's way of preparing for intimate relations between husband and wife.”
Prudence flushed a becoming pink. “I don't see how that can be so,” she protested. “I should think that would just make it worse.”
“But that is because you are thinking that the nervousness is a bad thing. Actually, the changes in your body are a response to stimulation of your desire, and they can be quite pleasurable.”
Prudence looked unconvinced. “Perhaps that's true for men, William. I don't think women feel that way.”
He shook his head, exasperated. “Prudence, you've told me that you can feel the tension in your body when we kiss. That's what's supposed to happen. Carried to its natural conclusion, that tension is released in a spectacularly pleasant way.”
“How?”
“It would be easier to show you than to explain,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “Through touching and kissing, that tension builds and builds until it reaches a point where you . . . explode . . . in a most enjoyable fashion.”
“Exploding doesn't sound very enjoyable.”
“Trust me, it is.” He sighed and kissed the tip of her nose. “Are you sure your mother didn't explain all this to you?”
“My mother? Certainly not.”
“Your sisters, then. Two more knowledgeable girls I have seldom met.”
His wife blushed for her sisters. “They are foolish beyond permission, I grant you. And yes, they have explained to me what husbands and wives do. Why they find it so amusing, I cannot imagine. They terrified me.”
“Ah, I see.”
“What is it you see, William?”
“That your sisters have given you a distorted view of intimate relations.”
Prudence frowned. “I hardly think that is likely.” She screwed her courage to the sticking point and asked, “It is true, is it not, that a man breeds with a woman much as animals do?”
Her husband grimaced. “Not precisely, though the equipment in both cases is the same.”
“It seems an alarming business, William. In fact, it sounds rather painful to me.”
“Sexual congress between men and women is not a painful business, Prudence.”
“No?” Prudence fixed him with a steady stare. “Elinor made quite a point of telling me that I would be very much the worse for wear when it happened to me. She insisted that there was a barrier inside a woman which a man had to penetrate, that there was pain and bleeding. I suppose you think that is nothing to distress me.”
Ledbetter sighed. “Your sister has overstated the case.”
“Now how would you possibly know?” his wife demanded. “Have you been given to deflowering virgins, my lord?”
“Of course not,” he all but snapped. “On the other hand, I have never met a woman who even mentioned being hurt the first time she had relations with a man. And it only happens the once!”
“How comforting,” Prudence murmured. She paced the sitting room, picking up and replacing various items on the tables—a snuffbox, a book, a candle. Eventually she turned to face him. “You're quite right, of course. It's ridiculous for me to carry on so about such an insignificant matter. Let's get it over with, shall we?”
Ledbetter blinked in astonishment. “I beg your pardon?”
“I'm sure you heard what I said. I shall go up to my room right now and await your arrival. I would ask only that you not dawdle. Just come and take care of the matter.”
“Prudence, are you deliberately trying to provoke me?”
“No, how should I be? Or perhaps you would prefer not to do it while I have my monthly cycle. I hadn't thought of that.”
“I prefer not to do it at all under such strictures,” he muttered. “Attend me, Prudence. I don't want you to consider this some kind of duty, some unbearable obligation. There is a great deal more to it than that.”
Ledbetter looked uncomfortable, but he managed to continue nonetheless. “It's like . . . oh, I don't know . . . like waltzing, I suppose. You could be stiff and wooden in someone's arms, or you could be floating, twirling, enjoying the exhilaration of the music and the synchronicity of movement together. For a waltz to be enjoyable, both parties must enter into the spirit of the dance.”
He held out a hand to her. “Come, pretend there is music, a gallery of musicians are playing a waltz and you have agreed to stand up with me. The room is filled with spring flowers and the chandeliers are blazing with elegant wax candles.”
She hesitated for a long moment and then moved toward him. He clasped her in his arms as on a dance floor, though he held her more closely than he would have in public. His hand felt warm and strong at her waist. He gazed into her eyes and started to hum a familiar waltz. And then they were moving around the floor of the drawing room, skirting furniture as they might have other couples.
At first she felt self-conscious and a little stiff, but he was a remarkably fine dancer and she allowed herself to move with him. He drew her even closer to him, so that their bodies touched. Prudence had never danced quite this way before. She felt the gracefulness of their movements, the excitement of their perfectly attuned turns. She felt one with him.
He danced her into the dark Long Gallery beyond the drawing room, where there was little to hinder their progress. Though she was scarcely familiar with the room, he apparently knew it by heart. She caught glimpses of portraits on the walls as they swung by. He tucked their hands against his cheek and kissed her fingers, even as he guided her expertly about the polished wooden floor. He held her in such a way that she felt fragile and protected and altogether cherished. Dazed, she tried to see his expression in the darkness, but could only detect the gleam of his eyes.
After a very long time, when she was pleasantly dizzy and breathless, he slowed to a stop, but continued to hold her firmly against him. Prudence could feel the beating of his heart. She knew that hers was as rapid from the splendid exercise. She didn't want him to let go of her, and for a long time they remained locked in each other's arms. His breath whispered in her hair and she thought perhaps his lips brushed her temple.
Dancing had never felt like that before. Oh, she had enjoyed the country dances well enough with all their spirited fun, but she had learned to waltz in a formal way that scarcely captured the elegance and intimacy of what they had just accomplished. Her body had felt as lithe and elegant as a bird in flight. And now, pressed against his, it felt lush with possibility.
“Did you enjoy that, Prudence?” he asked softly.
“Very much.”
“Do you want me to release you?”
“No.”
“Good.”
Certainly his lips brushed her forehead now. And then they skimmed over her face, descending to her lips. His kiss was warm and gentle. But for all that she could feel it tug at her. She returned the pressure and felt her body respond even more strongly.
And his body changed as well. Prudence could feel him harden against her and a flare of panic raced through her, making her shudder slightly. Ledbetter deepened his kiss, allowing her to feel the edge of his desire. But he remained unhurried, his hands lightly stroking her back.
Prudence realized that the sensations in her body were becoming stronger. Her breasts, pressed against his chest, seemed to tingle. The tug at her core felt more like a yearning than like the bout of nerves she'd feared. Ledbetter's hands, rhythmic and soothing on her back, moved slightly lower. They spanned her waist and held her firmly against him. That hard bulge in his pants pressed against her lower abdomen, and instead of being frightened she felt a surprising warmth and need.
His hands moved lower now, slowly tracing the firmness of her buttocks. She had never been touched like this before—and she didn't want him to stop. When his hands cupped her bottom and pressed her lightly against his hardness, she felt a rush of almost giddy urgency. Her pulse beat in her throat. Her hands grasped at his shoulders. She felt his tongue enter her mouth.
She was startled by that. And not certain that she wanted it there. Until he began to explore the recesses of her mouth, to glide his tongue along her own, to move it back and forth in a suggestive way, as though . . . Prudence felt the tension in her body increase once again and she sighed.
Ledbetter continued to hold her tightly against his body but he lifted his head slightly and looked into her eyes. “Does that distress you, Prudence?”
“Mmmm, no.”
“Do you mind my holding you so . . . closely?”
“No. Well, it's making my body behave a little strangely.”
“But not in a way you dislike,” he suggested.
“No, not in a way I dislike,” she admitted.
He shifted his hands back to her waist, and then began to move them upward. “Shall I show you something which might give you a great deal of pleasure?”
She hesitated before nodding. His hands continued to move up until they were almost at her breasts. And then, very slowly, very carefully, he traced small circles which got broader and broader. At first they were entirely at her sides, but gradually they moved further onto her breasts. The breath caught in her throat and she could scarcely bear the anticipation. His thumbs rubbed gently across the soft curves as he continued to stare into her eyes.
“Does that feel good, Prudence?” he asked.
She had to swallow before she could answer him. “Yes, very good.”
His thumbs had reached the apex of her breasts, and he rubbed them over the place where her nipples were. “Oh,” she gasped. “Oh, dear.”
She could feel her nipples harden, and her face flush. She was unable to meet his gaze.
“Come, look at me,” he urged. “That's what is supposed to happen, my dear. It's a very natural reaction. As is my own.”
Prudence knew that he referred to the hard bulge in his pants which she could feel pressing against her groin. She met his eyes and nodded. “I see,” she said.
He cupped her breasts in his hands, continuing to stimulate the hardened nipples. “How does that feel?”