The Wagered Wife Read Online Free PDF

Something about the marriage bed being the price women had to pay for a roof over their heads.
    That sounded a bit coarse to Caitlyn. Slightly sordid, actually. But with fewer than seventeen years to her credit, what could she say?
    Aunt Sylvia had called Caitlyn in the day before to discuss her duties as a married woman. Caitlyn had actually anticipated this discussion—eager to know what she should expect. In the event, however, Aunt Sylvia had been so imprecise that Caitlyn had been more confused than enlightened.
    As a girl who had spent so much of her time in the stables, she felt she had some idea of what to expect. However, it surely would have been nice to be better informed than her aunt’s vague “You must strive to please your husband.”

Three
    That evening they stopped at an inn where Trevor arranged for a bedroom, a small dressing room, and a private parlor for himself and his bride.
    During dinner Caitlyn seemed extremely nervous. Her tenseness increased, though he tried to keep up a patter of conversation. She seemed to be trying gamely to match his efforts. He had asked for a bottle of champagne as well as a bottle of brandy to accompany their meal, and now urged a second glass of champagne on her as a toast to their future. She had downed the first glass like a desert nomad at an oasis. With a giggle, she raised her glass to his.
    Trevor’s more intimate experiences with women had been with members of the demimonde, women far more experienced than he. Actually, there had been rather few of those encounters. He had never bedded a woman with whom he would be required to spend the following day. And he certainly had never taken a virgin to his bed before. He had some idea of the situation, but, in truth, he knew himself to be sadly limited in both knowledge and experience.
    Moreover, his previous encounters had been with women he found distinctly more enticing than this shy little frump who was his wife. Still, she was not repulsive in any way, and he found his body responding to the mere idea of having sex. He moved over to the settee to sit next to her and slid his arm around her shoulder. She stiffened.
    â€œRelax,” he said softly as he kissed her on the neck just beneath her ear.
    She turned toward him slightly. “I . . . I . . . uh . . . you will have to teach me what to do,” she said shyly.
    No man could resist such a request, Trevor thought, his chest fairly expanding in male pride. He touched his lips to hers, and she returned the pressure. He showered little kisses on her closed eyes, her nose, the base of her throat He returned his mouth to hers and flicked his tongue against her lips. Which remained firmly sealed.
    â€œOpen for me, Caitlyn,” he whispered, his hand caressing her breast.
    She drew back. “My mouth? You want me to open my mouth? Whatever for?” It was sheer curiosity in her tone.
    â€œI want to taste you. All of you,” he said in what he fancied to be a seductive whisper.
    â€œReally? Well—all right.” Her tone was doubtful, but she settled back into his arms. The kiss was deep, exploring. At first she was passive, apparently absorbing the idea of such a kiss. Then, very tentatively, she began to explore on her own.
    Trevor was amazed at his response to this. He pulled back and took a deep breath. “Oh, Lord,” he moaned softly.
    â€œDid I not do it correctly?” she asked, worried.
    â€œNo . . . I mean, yes. You were fine,” he reassured her. He took a large gulp from his glass and handed hers to her.
    â€œThe bubbles tickle my nose.” She giggled again. “I never had champagne before. I like it.”
    He grinned and gave her a light kiss, which she willingly—eagerly?—returned. “You go on and prepare for bed,” he whispered. “I shall join you when you are ready.”
    As she retreated into the bedroom, he reached for the brandy bottle. Downing a quick glass, he