Free Nellie (The Brides of San Francisco Book 1) by Cynthia Woolf Page A

things?”
    “I only speak the truth, Nellie.”
    His eyes turned dark gray with what she knew was desire. She recognized the look as the same one that Robert had when he’d wanted to have sex.
    “I do hunger for you.”
    She searched her foggy memory. “You didn’t take advantage of me last night, did you?
    “No,” he shook his head and leaned against the door jamb leading to his rooms. “I didn’t. But how did you know?”
    “I don’t feel abused.”
    “Why would I abuse you? No pain should happen in lovemaking.”
    Unable to meet his gaze, she shrugged. “There is always pain, at least there was with Robert. He liked to cause me pain.”
    “No.” He nearly shouted it and came over to her. Then quietly he said, “I will never, cause you pain. I will only give you pleasure. I promise you this and I never break my promises.”
    “Are you telling me my husband was…was…” Swallowing hard, she couldn’t say it. She couldn’t even think it. That all lovemaking was not like Robert performed boggled her mind.
    “Was a sick bastard. It’s one thing to give you pain when you enjoy it but quite unacceptable to give you anything but pleasure otherwise.”
    “Pleasure.” She laughed a bitter laugh. “You make it sound so easy. If that’s true why would Robert, who purported to love me, not give me that pleasure?”
    “I told you. There was something wrong with him. Did you love him?”
    Rubbing a hand across her aching forehead, she hesitated. Did she? Had she ever or was her relationship one of convenience?
    “I think now I was used to Robert. He and I were betrothed when we were children. When my parents were still wealthy. When I was seventeen, a year after we married, my parents lost most of their money in some bad investments. They later died in a boating accident. Some people, my in-laws, said Father arranged an explosion that killed himself and my mother, because he could no longer face what he’d done when he lost their money on a shipping investment. You see, the ships all sank in a hurricane taking all hands, as well as the silks and spices with them”
    She dropped the sheet and slipped quickly into her robe hanging from the bedpost at the foot of the bed, then sat at her vanity table.
    “Robert’s parents never forgave them, or me, because their son could have married better. Did I love him?” She dropped her hands into her lap. “No. Never.”
    “I’m glad.”
    “Why? What does it matter? He’s dead now. Will you hand me my brush please.”
    She shoved the long mass that was her hair, in front of her shoulder and brushed it. Blake had put her to bed, but hadn’t braided her hair and it was in tangles.
    “It matters.” He came behind her and caressed her head with his fingers, “because I would have a much harder time replacing someone that you loved. You would now probably have him into sainthood. That’s very hard to overcome, from my point of view.”
    “He definitely wasn’t a saint. Mmm, that feels so good.” Waves of relaxation and pleasure spread from her head to her toes. It was amazing how the touch by one person could be so pleasing.
    “There are lots of ways to please each other while still not making love. Would you like to try some? I’d only do what you like. You are always in control. I’ll stop whenever you say.”
    “You can stop whenever I say to?” His words cajoled and seduced her, making her pulse pound, even as the pain in her head subsided. “Robert told me that once he started he couldn’t stop” Flashes of embarrassment moved through her memory. “I tried to escape him one night, but that was impossible. The last night he was home, I must have conceived Violet. That was the nicest he’d ever been to me while making love. He didn’t choke me or anything.”
    She couldn’t see Blake’s face but she would have bet that he was frowning. His hands, massaging her head, exerted great pressure on her head. So much so, she cried out.
    “Blake,