Seduction by Amanda Quick Page B

anticipation had been responsible for keeping him in a state of
    aching arousal for too long. He'd been suffering for nearly ten days awaiting
    the right moment. Surely the denouement would have left a most pleasurable
    recollection.
    He glanced around the room and saw Sophy standing near the wardrobe. She was
    wearing the same dressing gown she had worn last night. Her back was to him and
    he smiled fleetingly as he caught sight of a stray ruffle that had been
    accidentally turned under around the collar. Julian had a strong urge to go over
    to her and straighten the bit of lace. Then, he decided, he would take the
    dressing gown off altogether and carry her back to bed.
    He tried to remember what her small, gently curved breasts had looked like in
    the candlelight but the only image that formed was one of dark, taut nipples
    pushing against the soft fabric of her lawn nightgown.
    Deliberately he pressed his memory further and found he could recall a hazy
    picture of his wife lying on the bed, the nightgown drawn up above her knees.
    Her bare legs had been graceful and elegant and he recalled his excitement at
    the thought of having those legs wrapped around him.
    He also remembered discarding his dressing gown as a sweeping desire kindled
    within him. There had been shock and uncertainty in Sophy's gaze when she had
    looked at him. It had angered him. He had come down onto the bed beside her,
    determined to reassure her and make her accept him. She had been wary and
    nervous but he had known that he could make her relax and enjoy his lovemaking.
    She had already shown him that she responded to him.
    He had reached for her and…
    Julian shook his head, trying to clear the cobwebs in it. Surely he had not
    disgraced himself by failing to carry out his husbandly duties. He had been
    consumed with the need to make Sophy his, he would not have fallen asleep in the
    middle of the procedure no matter how much port he had downed.
    Stunned by his incredible memory lapse, Julian started to push back the covers.
    His thigh scraped across a stiff portion of the sheet—a damp patch that had
    dried overnight. He smiled with relief and satisfaction as he started to glance
    downward. He knew what he would find and it would prove he had not humiliated
    himself after all.
    But a moment later his sense of satisfaction gave way to appalled disbelief. The
    reddish brown stain on the sheet was far too wide.
    Impossibly wide.
    Monstrously wide.
    What had he done to his gentle, delicate wife?
    The only experience Julian had ever had with a virgin had been his wedding night
    with Elizabeth and with the bitter wisdom gained in recent years he'd had cause
    to question that one occasion.
    But he had heard the usual male talk and he knew that in the normal course of
    events a woman did not bleed like a slaughtered calf. Sometimes a woman did not
    bleed at all.
    A man would have to literally assault a woman to cause this much bleeding. He
    would have had to hurt her very badly to produce so much damage.
    A queasy sensation gripped Julian's belly as he continued to stare down at the
    terrible evidence of his brutal clumsiness. His own words came back to him. You
    will thank me in the morning.
    Good God, any woman who had suffered as much as Sophy obviously had would not be
    in any mood to thank the man who had wounded her so grievously. She must hate
    him this morning. Julian closed his eyes for a moment, desperately trying to
    remember exactly what he had done to her. No incriminating scene appeared in his
    beleaguered mind yet he could not deny the evidence. He opened his eyes.
    "Sophy?" His voice sounded raw, even to his own ears.
    Sophy jumped as if he had struck her with a whip. She whirled around to face him
    with an expression that made Julian grit his teeth.
    "Good… good morning, my lord." Her eyes were very wide, filled with great
    feminine uneasiness.
    "I have the feeling this particular morning could have been a great deal better
    than it