Sands, Lynsay by The Deed

Author:The Deed
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

“Nay.”

“But, husband.”

“I said nay!” Amaury slammed the bedroom door and strode down the hall toward the stairs.

“Do not tell me you have allowed your annoyance with your wife’s pleasure in her duty to persuade you to refuse her that duty all together?”

Pausing at the top of the stairs, Amaury glanced back to see Blake a step behind him. Grimacing, he shook his head. Had it been merely the joining his wife had wanted, he would have happily complied.

Amaury had quite gotten over the problem of her enjoying the act. Twice he had tried to refrain from enflaming her passions with his touch before mounting her, and both times he had found the endeavor trying and sadly disappointing. It seemed he enjoyed her enjoyment. Therefore, he had decided—quite magnanimously, in his opinion—to take the blame for his little wife’s flaw himself. After all, he was the one who made her enjoy it. Without his touch or kisses, she was as limp as a wet tunic in the bed and forbore his attentions silently, just as other lady wives were said to do. So, her unladylike behavior was obviously his fault.

It was perfect logic to Amaury, and it soothed his worries about how ladies should or shouldn’t behave, allowing him to enjoy her at every opportunity. Which he had proceeded to do these last three days since seeking her out in the tailor’s room. Which was also what he had been in the process of doing when she had announced that that French jackanapes required his presence for fittings today.

Amaury’s passion had shriveled up like a grape in the sun at her announcement, as had his manhood, which had simply added to his irritation, causing him to snap his refusal to his wife before pushing away from her to dress himself. He found the loathsome little tailor’s pomposity unbearable enough at mealtimes; putting up with it between meals was unthinkable. Besides, he didn’t need any more clothes.

He already had two tunics. That was enough. It always left him with one to wear while the other was being laundered.

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Still, he thought with a sigh now, he should not have been so short with her. He had probably hurt her feelings, and she did seem to be very sensitive. He had come to that conclusion after three days when he had subjected himself to the difficulty of actually “talking” to her. He had been serious when he had said that she would stand beside him at court and have a say in all decisions. These were her people too. She had ruled them quite well on her own without his interference. That being the case, he owed it to her to include her in decisions he made now.

But talking to a wife was a difficult task. At least it had been at first. It was not like talking to your comrades at all. If his wife represented all women, then it would seem they were a sensitive lot.

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