To Marry an Heiress

He couldn’t recall ever carrying a woman to bed, but somehow it seemed the most natural movement, as though nothing else would do.

so and hog-tie a man in order to hold him close?
“I assume once we’re married, we’ll be intimate—” she began.
“Indeed we shall be,” he interrupted.
Her stomach quivered, and she felt her face breaking out in those unsightly blotches that announced to the whole world she was uncomfortable with her current situation. “Therefore calling me Gina is acceptable.”
“I appreciate the generous consideration.”
She wondered if when they were old and feeble he’d still speak to her as though they were passing strangers. She found it odd that he’d seemed to test the waters by hinting he wished permission to call her Gina and then retreated by distancing himself with so much politeness she was tempted to rock the boat until he toppled into the water.
Surely a time would come when she would be able to actually carry on a real conversation with him. Where words weren’t measured, meanings analyzed, and interpretations avoided.
“I have to admit I’m amazed to see you row with such skill. With the aristocracy’s penchant for servants, I’d assumed you’d have a rowing boy,” she said.
An incredible, warm smile spread across his face, and his eyes sparkled with amusement