soft bristles through Jessica’s hair. Finally, Wolfe put the brush aside, turned her until her back was to him, and divided the dark red mass of her hair into three equal lots. The touch of his hands on her nape made her shiver again.
“It’s a pity we’re all wrong for each other as man and wife,” Wolfe said quietly as he wove her hair into a single thick braid. “There is passion in you, Jessi.”
Abruptly, Jessica’s body became rigid. “I think not,” she said distinctly. “The thought of lying with a man makes my stomach twist.”
“Why?”
The quiet question startled Jessica. “Would you like a man doing that to you?” she demanded.
“A man?” Wolfe laughed. “No, not a man. But a woman…ah, that’s a different thing entirely.”
“Only for a man,” she retorted. “He is strong enough to say yes or no as it pleases him. Whenit’s finally finished, he doesn’t lie weeping on the bed. Nor does he scream in agony months later, as what he put in the woman’s body tears her apart trying to get out!”
“Someone has filled your head with nonsense. It’s not like that.”
“Not for a man, certainly.”
“Nor for a woman.”
“From what great font of wisdom do you draw this conclusion?” Jessica asked sardonically. “Have you attended a woman in childbed?”
“Of course not. Neither have you. Hand me the light blue ribbon.”
“Ah, but I have,” she retorted, grabbing the ribbon and holding it over her shoulder.
“What? I can’t imagine Victoria permitting that.”
“It was before I went to live with her.”
Wolfe’s hands paused. He took the ribbon and began wrapping it around the tail of the single braid he had woven.
“You were only nine when Lady Victoria became your guardian. What was a girl so young doing at a birthing?”
Jessica shrugged. “I was the first born. My mother had many pregnancies before cholera took her.”
“You never told me you had brothers and sisters.”
“I don’t.” An involuntary shudder moved over Jessica as memories tried to surface, memories she had banished to her nightmares years ago.
“Jessi,” Wolfe said. He touched the curve of her neck with a gentle fingertip. “A young girl doesn’t always understand what she’s seeing, especially when it comes to the mystery of sex or birth. Butif it was all so terrible, no woman would bear more than one babe.”
“Not willingly, no. Have you noticed, my Lord Wolfe, that men are considerably stronger than women, and considerably more interested in rutting?” Abruptly Jessica’s hands swept up and down her own arms, rubbing warmth into skin that was cold. “You’re right. It’s cool in here. I wonder where Betsy put my Chinese shawl. Do you see it, Wolfe?”
For the space of a breath there was no answer. Then Wolfe sighed and accepted the change of subject. “I’ll get it for you as soon as I finish braiding your hair.”
Jessica turned and looked over her shoulder at Wolfe. She smiled at him with lips that were too pale. “Thank you, my lord.”
“I’m not your lord.” The protest was automatic, but not angry. He had seen the gratitude in her eyes, and the fear that lay beneath it.
“Then thank you, my husband.”
“I’m not that, either. A wife lies with her husband. Or are you planning to pursue the vows of the Scottish marriage ceremony we took?”
“What?”
“’With my body I thee worship,’” Wolfe quoted softly. “Are you planning to worship me, wife?”
Jessica turned away quickly, but not so quickly that Wolfe missed the horror in her eyes. Knowing that he repelled her as a man made anger twist as deeply in Wolfe as desire. The knowledge that he now had a weapon with which to force Jessica into an annulment should have pleased him, but it did not.
“What if I demanded my husbandly rights?”
She flinched, but said instantly, “You would not.”
“You sound very certain.”
“You didn’t want our marriage. If you rut on me, you can’t cry
“It’s a pity we’re all wrong for each other as man and wife,” Wolfe said quietly as he wove her hair into a single thick braid. “There is passion in you, Jessi.”
Abruptly, Jessica’s body became rigid. “I think not,” she said distinctly. “The thought of lying with a man makes my stomach twist.”
“Why?”
The quiet question startled Jessica. “Would you like a man doing that to you?” she demanded.
“A man?” Wolfe laughed. “No, not a man. But a woman…ah, that’s a different thing entirely.”
“Only for a man,” she retorted. “He is strong enough to say yes or no as it pleases him. Whenit’s finally finished, he doesn’t lie weeping on the bed. Nor does he scream in agony months later, as what he put in the woman’s body tears her apart trying to get out!”
“Someone has filled your head with nonsense. It’s not like that.”
“Not for a man, certainly.”
“Nor for a woman.”
“From what great font of wisdom do you draw this conclusion?” Jessica asked sardonically. “Have you attended a woman in childbed?”
“Of course not. Neither have you. Hand me the light blue ribbon.”
“Ah, but I have,” she retorted, grabbing the ribbon and holding it over her shoulder.
“What? I can’t imagine Victoria permitting that.”
“It was before I went to live with her.”
Wolfe’s hands paused. He took the ribbon and began wrapping it around the tail of the single braid he had woven.
“You were only nine when Lady Victoria became your guardian. What was a girl so young doing at a birthing?”
Jessica shrugged. “I was the first born. My mother had many pregnancies before cholera took her.”
“You never told me you had brothers and sisters.”
“I don’t.” An involuntary shudder moved over Jessica as memories tried to surface, memories she had banished to her nightmares years ago.
“Jessi,” Wolfe said. He touched the curve of her neck with a gentle fingertip. “A young girl doesn’t always understand what she’s seeing, especially when it comes to the mystery of sex or birth. Butif it was all so terrible, no woman would bear more than one babe.”
“Not willingly, no. Have you noticed, my Lord Wolfe, that men are considerably stronger than women, and considerably more interested in rutting?” Abruptly Jessica’s hands swept up and down her own arms, rubbing warmth into skin that was cold. “You’re right. It’s cool in here. I wonder where Betsy put my Chinese shawl. Do you see it, Wolfe?”
For the space of a breath there was no answer. Then Wolfe sighed and accepted the change of subject. “I’ll get it for you as soon as I finish braiding your hair.”
Jessica turned and looked over her shoulder at Wolfe. She smiled at him with lips that were too pale. “Thank you, my lord.”
“I’m not your lord.” The protest was automatic, but not angry. He had seen the gratitude in her eyes, and the fear that lay beneath it.
“Then thank you, my husband.”
“I’m not that, either. A wife lies with her husband. Or are you planning to pursue the vows of the Scottish marriage ceremony we took?”
“What?”
“’With my body I thee worship,’” Wolfe quoted softly. “Are you planning to worship me, wife?”
Jessica turned away quickly, but not so quickly that Wolfe missed the horror in her eyes. Knowing that he repelled her as a man made anger twist as deeply in Wolfe as desire. The knowledge that he now had a weapon with which to force Jessica into an annulment should have pleased him, but it did not.
“What if I demanded my husbandly rights?”
She flinched, but said instantly, “You would not.”
“You sound very certain.”
“You didn’t want our marriage. If you rut on me, you can’t cry
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