Authors: Diana Quincy
“It is just as well,” he answered in that grainy tone of his. “You won’t be in it for long.”
She caught her breath, the granite intent in his voice made her insides twitch. Taking her into his arms, he brought his mouth down and pressed warm, surprisingly soft lips against hers.
He pulled away and began to loosen the belt of her dressing gown. “May I?”
She froze. “Do we put out the candles?”
“Only if you insist upon it.” His hands moved down to the sides of her hips. “I should like to see my wife when I make love to her.”
“As you wish.” She’d quickly parsed that if he could see her, she’d be able to see him. And she wanted to. Badly.
He loosened her belt and the dressing gown fell open revealing the valley between her breasts and the private place between her thighs. “Nothing underneath,” he said in a cragged voice. “Brave girl.”
Going to his knees, he put his lips to the smooth expanse of skin between her breasts, his large hands sliding behind to caress the curves of her bottom. His mouth trailed down over her rib cage and belly, to the vulnerable nest of tufted hair that shielded her most feminine place. When he put his lips there, Kat gasped and made some undecipherable utterance, the shock of it almost sweeping her off her feet. “Should you do that?”
Rising to his feet in a swift motion, he caught her up in his arms and carried her to the bed. “Yes, and I will do so often.”
She resisted the urge to pull her loose robe shut, to cover herself. Fear sprouted at being laid bare and vulnerable to this man who had hurt her more than anyone. Refusing to yield to cowardice, her mind swerved around the poisonous thoughts and steadied itself by latching onto the one truth that had never changed for her: no matter what he had done to her, she loved Rand. She’d chosen her course and would gladly see it through.
The counterpane had been pulled back and he laid her against the cool bed linens. She still wore her robe but it was opened wide, laying her bare to him. Standing by the bed, he loosened his own dressing gown belt. He shrugged it off, baring an impossibly thin form, all rangy musculature stretched taut over bone. A puckered, angry-looking scar marred one shoulder and a series of lighter scars ran down one arm. She could make out his ribs, the muscled stomach, the line of hair that trailed down to his large jutting member.
Climbing onto the bed, he came up over her and covered her with his body. The feel of his powerful frame against hers sent an avalanche of unschooled sensation rushing at her.
Her world narrowed to his all-engulfing presence. He was like the power of the sun, and overwhelming heat and light burned into her everywhere their bare skin met. His chest rubbed against her sensitized breasts, his hard belly on hers, their hips melded and his arousal pressed against the softness of her belly. His masculine scent filled her senses until she could discern nothing beyond the press of virility engulfing her.
His kiss was hot and openmouthed, making her blood run heavy and heated through her limbs and down to the core of her. When she felt him breech her opening, it seemed natural to widen her legs in welcome.
“Can you take it?” His dark keen gaze focused on her face. “I know I should be more patient with you, but I find I cannot.”
She had wanted to be with him in this way for almost as long as she could remember. “I can take it,” she said breathless. “I want it all, don’t be patient or too gentle with me. I’ve been waiting for this forever.”
He pushed in slowly and profound discomfort replaced the thick desire that had weighted her body only moments before. She tensed against the painful invasion of his body into hers. Squeezing her eyes shut, she gritted her teeth against the discomfort as he pushed further in, making her insides feel like they were being torn apart. Just when she thought she could bear it no further, he stopped pushing. “Is it done?” she whispered through the pain.
His eyes sharpened on her as a tear ran down the side of her face. Something like anguished regret flashed in his expression. He kissed away the tear as though it could take away the sting. “I’ve hurt you.”
She shook her head and pressed a determined kiss against his lips. “Just finish it, please.” She wanted it over and done with, fully consummated to seal her lifelong bond with him, to make it truly irrevocable.
He caught her mouth and deepened the kiss, unexpectedly sweeping her up into pleasure again with drugging strokes of his tongue inside her mouth. Her muscles loosened and warmth slid into her limbs. He began to move, back and forth motions that created a delicious friction, almost leaving her body before pushing in again, until he could go no further. He quickened his pace and her body began to feel the excitement again, began to close around and caress him as he slid in and out of her. Suddenly, seated deep inside her, he froze and shuddered, whooshing an exhale of great relief. Tension seemed to flow out of his body and the weight of him came down on her.
She stilled, her own body feeling strangely unsettled as she wrapped her arms around her husband, welcoming the heavy warmth of his relaxed body against hers. She pressed a kiss into his neck, inhaling his scent, a combined sense of relief and euphoria floating through her. He was finally hers. Totally and completely.
He kissed her cheek and pulled his body off of hers, swinging his long legs over the side of his bed. Rubbing his shoulder, he shifted in his sitting position so he could look at her. “Are you all right?”
“Yes, supremely.” She smiled and ran a hand along the sinewy strength of his bare back, thrilled to be able to touch him so. She could never imagine growing tired of touching him.
He bent over to reach for something on the floor, making her hand lose contact with his warm skin. Pushing to his feet, she saw he had his dressing gown in his hand. He pulled it on, giving her a distant smile. “I am relieved. I feared it went hard on you.”
He helped her to a sitting position and busied himself righting her dressing gown in gentle motions that made her feel protected and cared for. Anticipation trilled through her. She wondered what they would do next.
Once he had her dressing gown belted and put to rights, he eased her back down on the bed and pulled the counterpane over her. “Sleep well, my love,” he said and turned and walked through the adjoining door, closing it softly behind him.
…
Kat sat up and punched her pillow before flopping back against it. She had no idea of the time, but it must early morning. The gray tinge of dawn slivered through her windows, shaking off the last of the night shadows.
She shot a look at the closed door which adjoined Rand’s chamber. Amazed disbelief still clung to her at the abrupt manner in which he’d left her last night. She blinked back the tears jerking behind her eyes. Perhaps she should have expected this. She knew most married people of a certain station maintained separate bedchambers.
But her father usually passed the evenings in her mother’s bed. She’d found him there often enough as a child, when she’d tiptoed away from the nursery in the early morning to sneak into the comforting warmth of Mama’s bed. Her father had always been there, in his nightclothes, sleepily drawing her into the bed, settling her snugly between him and Mama before falling back into a snoring slumber.
She’d expected that same sleepy warmth and closeness with her husband. She’d assumed she’d wake each morning with Edward beside her. Shivering, she lay back down and pulled the counterpane over her, seeking its warmth. The fire had died in the night, leaving only cool gray ashes and none of its vitality. Fanny would be along soon to light it.
Her thoughts wandered back to Edward. Only he was no longer Edward. She’d married Rand, an altogether different specimen than the boy who had left her. She punched her pillow again and rearranged herself on it. She couldn’t shake the feeling Rand kept a large part of him—a critical part—heavily guarded and hidden away from her. Had she jilted Laurie, and risked the
ton
’s considerable displeasure, only to fall into a cold and distant marriage?
No. Time and proximity were on her side now. This time she would wait him out. And he couldn’t run. Even if it took years, she’d break through the shield of distant courtesy Rand had erected between them. Now that she was finally married to Edward Stanhope, she would settle for nothing less than having all of him.
The door clicked open and Fanny slipped in, keeping her gaze averted as she went to attend the hearth. The maid worked in silence as she built the fire.
“You needn’t be so quiet, I am quite awake.”
Fanny turned hesitantly before running a seeking eye over her mistress’ bed. “And alone?”
Kat’s cheeks warmed a little under the scrutiny. “Yes,” she said in answer to the unasked question. “But I am now a wife in both name and deed.”
Fanny turned to poke the fire once more, commanding the flames to leap higher. “So the two of you have finally sated your hunger.” She slipped out the door, returning promptly with a basin of water. “I’ve warm water if you’d like to…ah…cleanse yourself.”
Oh. She’d forgotten there might be evidence of what happened last night. Rising, Kat examined the linens and immediately spotted the stain. Hmmm. She didn’t feel any differently. One would think the loss of innocence would leave a greater mark than the small, unobtrusive streak of rust on the bed linens. “For all of the import society places on chastity, the reality of one’s maidenhead isn’t particularly remarkable.”
Chuckling, Fanny began to strip the bed. “That’s how the culls keep us faithful, I suppose. So we won’t be hopping out of their bed into someone else’s.”
Going to the basin of water, Kat stripped off her robe. She was a little sticky between her thighs, but otherwise felt remarkably normal. She dipped a wash towel in the water and wrung it out. Holding the linens crumpled in her arms, Fanny paused to regard her with a wary watchfulness. “Did he use you roughly?”
Kat wiped the sticky brownish streaks from her thighs, glad for the warm abrading sensation against her chilled skin. “No, not particularly.”
“Then what is it? Was it terrible?”
“No, not at all. It was rather wonderful being together in that way.” She cupped a breast, washing it with the cloth in her other hand. “But as soon as it was over, he returned to his own chamber. It was as if he considered his duty done. I expected more…I don’t know…more interest on his part.”
A knock sounded at the adjoining door. Before she could answer, it pulled open and Rand appeared on the threshold. Air from the moving door breezed across her flesh. Kat froze, naked before the wash basin with the wet cloth in her hand, her skin slick with moisture.
Rand halted, his glance spiked to where she still palmed her breast as though holding it up to him in invitation. He watched for a moment before his gaze traveled down her body in a quick but thorough perusal. Sensation skated across her skin, prompting the tips of her breasts to harden. While he watched. The column of his throat moved. Chills of a different sort puckered along her body at the way he absorbed the sight of her bare flesh.
Averting his eyes, Rand focused on something on the floor beyond her feet. “I do beg your pardon.” He cleared the rasp in his throat. “I thought to see if you would like to ride this morning. If it would suit, of course.” He was already dressed for riding in chocolate brown riding pants, worn boots, and a white open-necked linen shirt that revealed a rugged expanse of throat.
“It would suit very well, thank you,” she said, her voice polite. As though she wasn’t standing naked before him, ignoring the attraction that arced between them.
His gaze returned to her naked form and lingered a bit longer than was polite. But then again, a husband had a right to look his fill. “Very well. I shall see you downstairs.” Taking a step back, he pivoted, going back through the door and shutting it behind him in precise movements.
Kat exhaled, the heightened moment still fluttering under her skin like a thousand tiny butterflies. Fanny’s snort broke the spell. She looked to her maid, almost surprised to still see her there. She’d been so absorbed in Rand, she’d forgotten about the maid’s presence. “What?”
Fanny pushed out her lips, amusement plain as writing on her face. “I don’t think you have to worry about a lack of interest on his part. Nor on yours, for that matter.”
…
“You are in excellent looks this morning,” Rand said, greeting her at the bottom of the massive staircase a short time later.
She dipped her chin. “I’m glad you approve.”
The dark slash of his right brow rose at the coquettish gesture. “Surely, you anticipated that I would.”
Of course, she’d known he would. Kat knew the picture she created. She’d worn the tight-fitting, soft-blue riding gown for effect. After all, if there was one thing Kat excelled at, it was appearances. The hue of her gown heightened the color of her eyes and deepened the shine in her hair. It also emphasized the modest curve of her bosom, which he seemed to appreciate even if it didn’t match Elena’s mountainous proportions. As the
ton
’s incomparable, she excelled at dressing for public show, like a peacock showing its colors. Today, she’d dressed for her husband. If she could win over the sharp tongues of the
ton
, surely she could manage one man.
He offered his arm and they strode out the side doors toward the stable. “Oh,” she said with some disappointment. “I’d hoped we’d break our fast first, perhaps on the terrace with its spectacular views.”
“There is much to see at Waterford,” he said. “And I’m keen to show it to you.”
Once they mounted, he led the way, winding them back up through the hills. At first he set a sedate pace, but once he seemed assured of her riding skills, they gave the horses their heads and raced across the wide expanses of the easy sloping hills.