Lady Valentine's Affair

Chapter Eight

Eight

Exhausted and chilled, Gwen retired early that evening, more than ready for the warm security of her bedchamber and the homey glow of a fire. She curled on her side beneath the heavy blankets in her oversize bed, and the candle on her side table cast a soft yellow glow across the pages of the old journal lying open beside her.

Unable to sleep after the events of the day, she'd been whiling away the hours leafing through the pages, and re-discovering the forgotten romance of Sarah and her king of hearts. This bygone Lord Valentine had been quite the romantic, and it was clear that he and Sarah had shared a genuine love which had blossomed even before their nuptials. She turned another page, eyes falling to script significantly sloppier, perhaps more hurried than the other entries.

Dearest Diary,

I am so nervous, and excited. Mostly excited. I'm afraid I shall expire from it. I am finally a married woman, and the wedding was magical. I don't have time to write of it all now. I will write of it tomorrow. My mother and my maid have just left, and George, my husband, will be here any moment. I wish I knew what to expect for my wedding night, Diary. Mama made "it" all sound so horrible, but I can't imagine anything with George being unpleasant. Whenever he touches me... or kisses me... Heavens! I feel so improper writing it down, but—

There's been a knock on the door! Diary, it must be him. My husband! I will write tomorrow and tell all.

Sincerely,

Lady Valentine

Gwen's cheeks grew warm. If Sarah felt improper writing about her upcoming wedding night, Gwen felt positively shameful reading about it. How much detail would Sarah include in the pages to follow? Would she like it? Or would it be as terrible as all mother's seemed to insist? Gwen's palms grew slick and she slammed the book shut. She tossed it aside and flopped on her back as frustrations with her own marriage returned. The entry had served only to remind her that her marriage had never been fully... effectuated.

When she and Anthony had married she'd been so young, only sixteen. On their wedding night she'd been so anxious she'd actually thrown up. To her immense relief, when he'd come to her room he'd insisted they wait until she was a bit older. More comfortable with consummating the marriage. At the time she'd been so relieved, thought the gesture so very sweet and kind, but later... later she'd learned that he simply hadn't wanted her.

But what of now?

The confusing events of the last few days rushed through her head along with the intense memory of his lips on hers, the heat of his hands on her skin, his strong arms cradling and holding her. Those hadn't been the embraces of a man who didn't want her. Her skin tingled in remembrance and heat melted through her.