Bound To Bea

Chapter Twenty Eight

Beatrice stifled a yawn, unwilling to appear as tired as she felt on the eve of what marked the start of her honeymoon.

But she was indeed tired, having suffered a great deal through the journey here. She had been sickly throughout; barely able to eat and throwing up the little she had forced down her throat. Upon their arrival that afternoon, they had gotten married and had settled in a boardinghouse, where they were now being made to endure a cold wedding supper, rather than a feast to celebrate their union—it was the price to pay for eloping.

She took a spoonful of soup, fighting the feeling of nausea as she forced it down her throat. She would suffer through dinner tonight and try to regain her lost energy. It was expected of her to perform her wifely duties to Noah, and she did not wish to displease him by depriving him of the pleasure he deserved, even if she wasn't certain she would be pleased with the act, not with the way her head ached and her stomach quavered.

Dinner ended, and shoving her barely touched plate aside, Beatrice watched the maid clear the table before turning to exit the room.

Noah rose to his feet, circling the table to where she sat.

"I shall request for a warm bath." He leaned down and kissed her head. "It shall ease your travel sickness and help you sleep tonight."

"Sleep?" Beatrice stiffened, an icy shiver racing down her spine at the thought of Noah turning away from her tonight. Was he to act like his cousin and neglect her through the time of their marriage?

"You're tired, Bea."

"But I shall manage." She gripped his arm, unwilling to be dismissed.

"Manage?" He raised a brow.

Nodding, she swallowed. "I shall, and I shall try my best to... to please you, my lord."

Noah watched her, and in that second, Beatrice felt her old insecurities returning. She was ugly; her father had told her many times, and her dead husband had failed to find her attractive enough to want to father heirs through her.

She feared it was Noah's wish to do the same—to fail to consummate their marriage while deriving pleasure in the bed of a mistress. It would hurt her if that was to be the case, she thought. If Noah acted as Oliver had acted during the duration of their marriage, it would hurt much more than it had hurt with Oliver. It would hurt because Noah had opened her up to emotions she hadn't known existed, and against her better judgement, she had fallen in love with him.

Tears filled her eyes, and afraid he might see them, she released his arm and glanced down.

"Forgive me..."

"Shh." He cupped her face,, urging her to look at him as he knelt before her. He held her gaze. "Love is not to be managed, my dear, nor is marriage. It is to be enjoyed by the two people involved. I shall not—in my barely containable desire for pleasure"—he kissed her lips hungrily—"deprive you of pleasure."

She stared at him, her body warming at the look of desire in his eyes. "What... what do you mean?"

"I want you terribly," he said, his eyes catching fire. "I want you so badly, that tonight, I thought many times of abandoning my meal and taking you right here on this table. I would have much rather had you for dinner," he murmured.

Hitching a breath as his hand crawled up her inner thigh, Beatrice collapsed against her seat as he buried his fingers in her flesh.

"But I shall wait until you have regained your strength," his warm breath caressed her lips, setting her entire body on fire, "then I shall devour you, my dear wife."

He released her thigh and rose to his feet. Trembling from the passion he had aroused in her, Beatrice watched breathlessly as he exited the room.

By the time the maid arrived with warm water, Beatrice was still barely composed, but she kept her emotions buried as the maid bathed her. The warm water eased her headache and aching muscles, and when she emerged from the tub, a small portion of her appetite had returned.

"Do you mind bringing me a glass of milk and some biscuits?" she asked, facing the maid.

"Of course." Nodding to her words, the young maid curtsied, before turning to exit the room.

Beatrice ate her snacks by the fireplace; fatigue shrouding her form until she was dozing on the rocking chair. She must have slept for several hours, before something warm grazed her arm, waking her.

Sighing, she turned to the side, causing the warmth to spread across her belly. Confused, she tore her eyelids apart and glanced down to find an arm slung over her belly; Noah!

Turning fully to him, it slightly surprised her to find him lying next to her, for she vaguely remembered falling asleep on the chair, not the bed. Perhaps he had carried her to bed. She smiled at the thought as she leaned forward and brushed his hair off his forehead.

He was handsome; even more so when he slept. He seemed content and at peace. She was content as well, she thought, her leg grazing his bare thigh as she leaned into him.

Stunned, yet thrilled, Beatrice slid the covers down. A sharp breath escaped her lips at the sight of him. He was naked!

Barely breathing, she took in his unclad form. Was it customary for men to sleep without their clothes? She wondered, glancing down at her own cotton nightdress. Perhaps he had done so in his attempt to seduce her.

She swallowed at the thought, for if the slowing of her heart and constricting of her lungs was anything to go by, she was indeed seduced. What she wouldn't do to feel his skin against hers...

Drawing her nightdress up to her knees, she shifted closer to him. Her desire to feel him against her was nothing wrong, for he was her husband, wasn't he? Unless he did not wish to be disturbed. Would it displease him if she woke him up?

It would have displeased Oliver.

Shaking her head at the thought, she reminded herself Noah was not Oliver. Noah was nothing like Oliver. While Oliver had rejected her, Noah had spoken of devouring her. He had compared the pleasure he desired to derive from her with the one a man derived from his favorite meal. It was an odd comparison, but one she desired to test out, nonetheless.

Heaving a silent breath, she placed her bare leg over his waist, the warmth of his skin immediately searing hers and evoking a soft sigh from her lips.

Noah groaned then, his eyelids tearing apart as he stared at her.

"Bea?" A small frown creased his brows.

Intoxicated by the passion she felt, she shifted closer into him until she felt him respond to her seduction. "Devour me, Noah," she whispered breathlessly.