Read Online The Velvet Glove by Mary Williams - Free Book Online Page A

‘There’s no need to be any more. We’re together now, just you and me. No more prying eyes or good wishes and stupid jokes. There’s always a lot of bla-bla and back slapping at weddings. But you were wonderful. And you looked simply – gorgeous.’
    He caught his breath, feeling the urge swelling strong in his loins and whole body, hardly able to resist pulling the constricting chiffon dress and en dless petticoats from her body – wanting – with the natural lust of any healthy young bridegroom for a young wife – to make her truly his with their flesh merging into the wild sweetness of pulsing consummation.
    She said nothing, simply stood staring wide-eyed at the luxurious interior, one slender hand pressed over a breast.
    ‘Cassie—’ Jon said in a low voice, ‘come on now—’ and when she still didn’t move, continued with a hint of impatience, ‘what’s the matter? Are you cold or something? Well, we’ll soon remedy that.’ A look of confusion crossed his face. He pulled her to the soft luxurious bed and sat upon it, bouncing up and down once or twice. ‘It’s soft and warm, feel it.’ He jerked her wrist. She resisted, then fell beside him.
    ‘ Don’t Jon – please don’t.’
    ‘ Don’t what? For Heaven’s sake. Are you – are you tiddly? Was the champagne too much for you? It shouldn’t have been. You hardly had any. Well? Well ? Cassie – Cassie.’ He pulled her close, one hand reaching for the fastening at her waist, the other firm against the subtle curves of buttocks and thighs beneath the voluminous layers of soft material.
    There was a shrill cry of, ‘No – no . Don’t—’ as she resisted, struggling against him, and with a violent movement freed herself. Jon stared at her, shocked and outraged by the rigid young figure confronting him. Her cheeks were flaming, her eyes wide, blazing with something he couldn’t understand – a kind of cold terror like that of some wild creature in confrontation.
    ‘ What the devil—’ He broke off as her breathing quickened and the colour gradually drained from her face leaving it pale and tremulous. Her under lip quivered; she lifted both hands, covering her eyes. There was the sound of a muffled sob and the glimmer of tears between the slim fingers.
    ‘ I’m sorry, Jon – oh – I’m sorry. It’s just—’
    Through outrage and frustration, a seed of pity stirred and pierced his desire. She looked so defenceless suddenly, like a confused child in her mass of finery with hair half tumbled to her shoulders. Sexual need withered and died in him like a flame gone cold and dead in a freezing wind.
    ‘It’s all right,’ he said, ‘you’re tired and tense. I understand.’
    ‘ Do you? Do you?’ But he doesn’t, she thought, how could he? She didn’t even understand herself, except for the shadowy terror from the past – the ‘thing’ that had always haunted her from her earliest youth – something only half formulated in the deepest recesses of memory, but that was always there, waiting to assume shape once the barriers in her brain collapsed. And then – she shivered. Why should it be now , of all times, when she so needed love and compassion from Jon of all people – the one person who’d rescued her from a dull existence to give happiness and meaning to her life?
    He reached for her hand, and said quie tly, ‘I’m your husband, Cassie – there’s no need to be afraid. We’ll sort all things out later, when we’ve got to know each other – properly, I mean. If you like, I’ll sleep in the dressing-room tonight. Tomorrow it will be different. We’ll be away from here, in a new place meeting fresh people. Then, all in good time, I’ll be able to show you what it’s all about – marriage and loving. Smile now, dry your eyes.’
    She relaxed; her lips softened and tilted sweetly, tremulously, resurrecting the fragile beauty that had so enchanted him from the moment of their first meeting. He felt again a