Free The Hourglass by Bárbara Metzger

women then? In plain truth, I was neither a caring husband nor a faithful one for the short time I was wed.”
    “What happened to her?”
    He honestly had no idea. “She died.” He turned toward the window again, and turned the conversation. “Tell me, did you enjoy lovemaking with your Elgin?”
    Genie coughed on a sip of the wine. “Gracious, that is not a proper topic.”
    “But my sins are?”
    He was right. Genie owed him her honesty, and an explanation. “Elgin did not love me any more than I loved him. I became reconciled to our marriage. He did not.” Genie saw no reason to delve further into her own past. It was the future that concerned her now, tonight especially. “You said a woman should feel love before, ah, consummating her union.”
    Now he came back to the chair where she sat, and looked down at her. “That was not precisely what I said. Are you by any chance implying that you feel affection for me?”
    Genie did not know what to say. How to tell one’s husband of half a day that he baffled her and bemused her, and sometimes made her blood run cold? Instead she said, “That was not what I meant. I was wondering if mutual attraction was enough to satisfy your conditions.”
    He knelt by her chair and took up her hand. “Are you saying that you feel a roaring, raging passion for me?”
    Genie snatched her hand back. “NO!”
    “Damn.”
    He did not seem to be angry or disappointed, so Genie let her curiosity rule again. “Goodness, do ladies feel roaring, raging passions?”
    “With the right lover, they do. It is called lust, one of the baser emotions among mortal men, and the most common.”
    “I am sorry if I led you to believe—”
    He laughed. “I was merely teasing. Do you think I would believe you eager to share my bed when you shy from my touch like a skittish colt? Although I suppose I would not turn you down if you were panting and pleading. I am only human, after all.” He chuckled again, but Genie did not see the humor.
    “I made my vows, too,” she said, “knowing that intimacy is part of marriage. I would honor my word the same as you.”
    “Without affection or attraction? I would not ask it of you. What I do ask is for your help, not out of duty or subservience or righteousness.”
    “You are an earl. What could I do to help you?”
    “You can help spend my money, for one thing. You can point the way.” He sat in the only other chair in the room, at the desk with all its papers. “You see all the decisions to be made? So come, Lady Ardeth, sit and relax, and talk of what is needed. You will know more than I about schools and foundling homes.”
    Despite her intentions, Genie was relieved to be excused from her wifely duties—although Ardeth was far more handsome than Elgin. Perhaps she was a tiny bit attracted to him after all, intrigued by his refined looks that hid great power. She wondered what else his clothing hid, and if his courtly manners would extend to that large bed that loomed behind him. She purposely turned her head to study the documents he handed her, and told herself she was delighted to be consulted about his charitable work and finances. Elgin never so much as showed her their accounts, nor did he spend a groat on anything but himself. And consulting was far more enjoyable than Elgin’s conjugal visits had ever been.
    After an hour of discussion and decisions, Genie felt like a partner, maybe not a wife, but a valued colleague in bettering other lives. Her husband might be a bedlamite as well as a benefactor, but she could not remember the last time she felt so content, with such a sense of accomplishment. “This is a much better way of spending one’s wedding night,” she said, then clapped a hand over her mouth, realizing what she had said.
    Ardeth only laughed and took the list she was compiling out of her hand. “Fool that I am, I almost forgot. But it truly is our wedding night, when I should be thinking of my lovely bride instead of