It was a novelty for Vanessa to be in such a large happy family home, and she was a bit overwhelmed at first. She had enjoyed the peace and quiet and congenial company at the doctor's. She had loved the quiet time and relatively intimate setting, and felt she knew Clifford as well as anyone could know someone before they were married. Each day brought new discoveries which only added to her regard for him.
As she spent time with all of the cousins, she could see why Clifford talked so fondly of having a large family. To watch the youngest Jeromes frolic like happy puppies was a delight.
But Vanessa had other things on her mind besides mingling with her host family, for her solicitors Mason and Rogers were due first thing Monday morning. She settled into her room well on Saturday, organizing the things Claire and Malcolm had brought for her from Hawkesworth House so that she would be appropriately attired for a social visit, and sending for a few more items now that she was in such elegant company.
She hung up her frocks with the help of a maid, and then looked over her linen to make sure it was immaculate. She had a fine muslin in a dark block print of rich deep russet tones which made her hair shine like a crown. It was modestly cut as well, and she had a matching shawl to complete the ensemble. It would be appropriately business-like but still pretty, and well suited to the occasion. She would have dined with the family, but Clifford advised her not to overdo things, and so she ate separately with he and the Bransons on trays in one of the small parlors. They tried to keep the conversation light, which frustrated Vanessa no end. She wanted to know everything about Clifford, but also did not want to share his most private self with anyone.
She had also hoped for some opportunity for further physical intimacies, but Clifford had done nothing more than kiss her on the hand or cheek since she had agreed to marry him.
She pouted that night as he escorted her up to her chamber, but he shook his head, and stepped away from her, though he retained her hand in his own.
"I know these feelings are all new and very powerful, but I would never wish you to think I had deliberately set out to take advantage in any way. I know what I said to Henry about abstinence. It has been easy enough for me up until now, but just one touch from you and I melt. All my good resolutions fly straight out the window."
"I understand," she said, blushing.
"I don't think you do, not fully. But you were raised on a farm. You know of the birds and the bees. Let's just say that the desire to procreate is the most powerful force of nature I can think of. And that desire is part of the mind as well as the body. The prospect of you becoming my wife is so, er, stimulating, that I can barely think about anything else."
"One more kiss, please?"
Clifford gave an almost pained assent. "But I shall put my hands in my pockets, and I would request that you loop yours behind your back. Touching me is a most risky activity."
Even without hands, the kiss was so compelling that Clifford jumped away from her like a scalded cat, shuddering from head to toe.
"I'm sorry. I simply cannot bear it. It's just too powerful between us. It is nothing you have done wrong. The failing is all mine. Good night, my dear. I shall seen you on the morrow," he said, backing away from her.
It was only with the greatest difficulty that he tore himself away, and he tried not to flee down the hall like a coward. Never had any woman affected him so deeply, as if he couldn't breathe without her in his arms.
She stared after him pensively, and thought over his words, searching for hidden meanings. His body had thrashed about so.
She blushed. It was rather shocking, but also nice to know that she had the power to make him desire her so. With that happy thought she donned a virginal white nightrail, brushed out her hair quickly, and got into her bed. Never had it seemed lonely, until now.
She hugged the pillow, wrapped her arm around it as if around his waist, and rubbed her breasts against it. She was so moist with desire below her waist she wondered if women melted in the same way as men.
A couple of tentative touches of her most intimate flesh convinced her she did, and she yanked her hands up away from her loins, and clasped them together to stop herself from yielding to such sinful temptation.
She ground her hips against the pillow in an effort to get comfortable, and felt herself quivering, awash with passion. She collapsed with a gasp, and fell into a sound, sated slumber.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
She awakened early on Sunday morning after a refreshing sleep relatively untroubled by nightmares, and got ready for church. She scrubbed herself with cold water from the basin, and put on one of her simple black gowns, adding a gossamer fichu to cover her neck. She dusted off her heavy cloak in preparedness for the walk to church and the time she would be sitting in the drafty pew.