The Language of Love: A Mistaken Identity Regency Romance (The Academy of Love Book 4) by Minerva Spencer & S.M. LaViolette

Author:Minerva Spencer & S.M. LaViolette [Spencer, Minerva & LaViolette, S.M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Crooked Sixpence Press
Published: 2021-12-31T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17

When Henry rapped on their connecting door and entered his wife’s room at nine that night, the maid had gone, but Annis was still seated at her dressing table brushing her hair.

She set down the brush, stood, and turned to him when he entered her room.

Henry struggled to look at all of her at once. Her froth of pale blond curls fell all the way to her waist and his fingers twitched to feel the thick, silken waves.

Rather than wearing one of the lacy confections that he’d ordered made for her, she’d donned the primmest white lawn nightgown that he’d ever seen. He wanted to be angry that she’d not worn the clothing he’d chosen for her, but the puritanical night-rail was somehow more erotic than even the flimsiest lace gown.

Not that he needed any help with arousal.

He’d been half-hard since that damned day on the blanket. It had become worse with each night that passed. Right now, he ached so badly that the mere brush of his robe over his rigid shaft was agony.

“God, you are so beautiful,” he said in a voice he didn’t recognize.

She gave a breathy, nervous laugh. “Thank you.”

Henry set down the bottle and glasses. He’d never been with a virgin before, but he suspected she’d have some anxiety about tonight and a bit of alcohol might help relax her.

“Would you like a glass?”

“Please.”

“Did you get any rest?” he asked, opening the bottle.

“No.” Any color that had been in her cheeks at his earlier comment drained away.

Henry poured two glasses and handed her one.

“To our new life together,” he said, raising his glass.

She lifted her glass, but before she took a drink, her face crumpled and a tear slid down one cheek.

Henry cursed beneath his breath and snatched the wine from her shaking fingers before it fell. He set both glasses down on the dressing table and turned back to her.

She was staring at her feet, her shoulders shaking.

“Don’t cry, Annis,” he begged, awkwardly patting her on the shoulder.

She jolted at his touch, but when he dropped his hand to his side, she threw herself against him; her face buried in his chest.

Good God, this was a nightmare. Why the devil did men ever want virgins?

“It will be fine, Annis,” he soothed. “I promise I will be gentle. It’s my understanding it only hurts the first time—for a little while. If you are too tired, we could wait until—”

“No!”

He recoiled at her sharp retort.

“I’m so sorry, Henry,” she mumbled against the thick satin of his robe.

“Look at me, darling.” He took her heart-shaped face in both hands, gently wiping at the tears with his thumbs. “Everything will be fine. I know I’ve been awkward with you since all this happened, but I’m not angry with you and I shall never—”

“No, it’s not that. I have something to tell you, Henry.”

Unease wormed its way through him. Bloody hell. What now?

“Yes?” he asked, steeling himself for the worst.

“I’m not a v-virgin.”

It was not the confession he’d

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