Kissing in the Dark (28 page)

She stared in disbelief.

“It’s ours.”

It couldn’t be. She looked at her husband. “You bought the house?”

“I did.”

“
You
bought it?”

He nodded, his grin saying he was mighty pleased with himself and proud of his gift to her.

“You rat!” She thumped her fist against his chest. “You knew this whole time and let me suffer, watching people move in furniture, knowing I would never have a chance—”

“It was a surprise,” he said gently.

“My heart’s been breaking for three weeks because . . . oh, Duke, I love it.” She hugged his neck. “Thank you.”

“Well, that’s better than getting punched.”

Her face heated and she rubbed his chest where she’d hit him. “Thank you for the wonderful surprise.”

He carried her up the steps onto the front porch. “You didn’t think we were going to live with my mother or your aunts, did you?”

With only three weeks between his proposal and their wedding, she hadn’t known what to think about their living arrangements, and had uneasily left the decision to him. It was his town, his money, his choice. But she hadn’t expected him to buy a house, and certainly not the one she dreamed of owning.

He feigned a gasp. “Open the door so I can carry you inside before my arms fall off.”

She laughed and hugged his neck. “I’m glad you chose me to be your wife.”

A pleased grin tipped his lips. “So am I, Faith. Now open the door and let me carry you over the threshold before I collapse.”

She turned the doorknob and pushed it open.

He groaned and staggered inside, making her laughter the first sound to fill their house. With sure steps, he strode through a spacious foyer and into a large parlor where he twirled her in a circle. “What do you think?”

He stood her beside him, and Faith could only stare. When she’d seen the house three months earlier, it had been bare to the floor.

“I didn’t want to bring you into an empty house. My mother and the girls outfitted the parlor for us, and chose necessities for the other rooms, but if you don’t like the furnishings we can replace them.”

For the first time that day Duke looked uncertain. She turned a slow circle, drinking in the garden setting, the deep green parlor furniture, the plush rug of browns, golds, and greens. Tiny green-stemmed wildflowers of aster, bee balm, forget-me-nots, and pink pasture roses patterned the cream-colored walls. She crossed the carpet and touched a bouquet, feeling the dried paint beneath her fingers. Tansy had given her this gift by painting these delicate flowers for her.

“It’s beautiful,” she said. Sateen drapes of tan and buff with brown tassel tie-backs covered three large windows that were partially open to let in the evening light and fresh air. The room was gorgeous. “I can’t believe this is our home.” She looped her arms around Duke’s warm neck. “I’m going to love being your wife.”

Relief filled his eyes as he lowered his head to kiss her. They shared their first passionate kiss as husband and wife in their parlor.

He held her against him, his arm banding her back as they swayed together, moving to the slow, seductive rhythm of his delving, stroking tongue. Heat burned through her, and she basked in the sound of his low groan. They would consummate their vows in this house tonight.

“I never got my bag,” she whispered against his mouth.

“Tansy put it in our bedchamber.”

“So my aunts knew about this too.”

“We were all plotting against you darling.”

She sighed and rubbed her palm over his chest. “Thank you for the best day of my life.”

“I want it to be the best night of your life, too.”

By the look in his eyes, they would be sharing their new bed soon. She knew what was required of her, and was more than willing to lie with her husband. But what if he sensed her inexperience and asked questions she couldn’t answer?

“Can I see the house before we . . . before I change?”

“That’s what I’d planned to do before you distracted me.” He grinned and took her hand. “Kitchen first.” A bottle of red wine sat on the counter with two glasses that he promptly filled. “Do you think we can navigate while carrying these?”

She accepted the glass with a smile. “If I can cross a rutted field in the dark without spilling a drop of wine, I think I can manage a hardwood floor and a few doorways.”

He tapped his glass to hers. “Welcome to your new home, Mrs. Grayson.”

“Our home.” She lifted her glass to toast him. “I wish I had something to give you in return.”

He linked his fingers with hers. “You’re all I want.”

“I hope that never changes,” she whispered, paralyzed with fear to think, to
know
that this sweet bliss could shatter at any moment.

He lit a lantern, then led her through the dining room, a small music room, and a large water closet downstairs. Upstairs, they passed four partially furnished bedrooms, two of which Cora and Adam would use, and at the back of the house a small nursery connected to a master bedchamber as big as their parlor.

Faith trailed her fingers across a tall chiffonier and matching dresser in a lustrous cherrywood that brought a rich warmth to the room. Awed by luxury she never thought to enjoy, she admired the dressing table with a beveled oval mirror—and was shocked by the reflection of a bride in her finest dress standing beside her husband. A huge canopy bed loomed behind them, with a bouquet of herbs and wildflowers lying on the white linen pillowcase.

Their eyes met in the mirror, his dark and too compelling. Faith’s breath locked in her chest, and she waited for him, for whatever he might expect of his wife.

“Somebody left a salad on our bed,” he said, nodding toward the herbs.

Her breath shuddered out and she brought her glass to her mouth and finished the last drops of her wine. She set the empty glass on the bedstand, then picked up the bouquet. “It’s a tussie-mussie,” she said. The stems were tucked into a white lace doily and tied bouquet fashion with a pink ribbon. “It’s from my aunts. Tansy must have left it when she brought my bag.”

Duke leaned his shoulder against the carved cherry bedpost, and finished his wine. “What exactly is a tussie-mussie?”

“It can be a gift. Or a curse. It depends on what herbs you put in it.” She skirted the bed to show him the herbs. “Basil is for love and good wishes, peppermint-scented geranium for happiness, and lavender for devotion.” She brushed her finger over a daisy-like white flower with a deep yellow center. “Chamomile is for wisdom and fortitude.” Which she would surely need to get through her wedding night. “This blue, star-shaped flower is borage for bravery.” A virtue she could use more of right now. “And this wild rose is for love.”

“You forgot that one,” he said, pointing to a green stalk with tiny leaves and miniature pink flowers.

“Thyme. For daring.”

He chuckled. “Thyme for daring. That must be from Iris.”

Her face flushed. Only Iris would have thought to add the thyme, knowing Faith would find the tussie-mussie on her marriage bed. Today, on her wedding day when she needed it most, her aunts had brought love and encouragement and a bouquet of heartfelt wishes.

“Now you know why I love those women,” she said, sniffing the green, reviving herbs to hide her discomfort.

“I’m glad you have them.” Duke was watching her play with the herbs, but she sensed his thoughts were elsewhere.

With a sigh, she laid the tussie-mussie on the dressing table, looked at her handsome, patient husband, and swallowed hard. It all hinged on this, her wedding night, and making him believe she was an experienced woman. One rushed intimate involvement was hardly enough knowledge to get her through the consummation, but she wasn’t a virgin, and for that she could finally be thankful.

Duke lowered his wine glass. “Why don’t you change now?”

The heat in his eyes seared her. “I’ll need your help with my corset.” She could manage her dress, but not the white lacy corset Iris had given her. The corset, chemise, and drawers were an expensive gift from one of Iris’s former johns, but Iris, who disdained corsets and pristine white underclothes, had never worn them.

Faith’s fingers trembled and she fumbled with the buttons on the bodice of her dress. She heard the rough slide of her husband’s gabardine suit as he crossed the room, felt his hard body beside her even though he didn’t touch her. He set his empty wineglass on dressing table, then gently lifted her chin.

“I’m not going to rush you. There’s no hurry”

He was so beautiful, so tender, giving her his trust, his faith, his passion—a perfect wedding night—while she was holding back, keeping secrets.

He brought his mouth to hers in a tender, wine-flavored kiss that sent a rush of heat through her. She braced her hands on the dressing table to steady herself. He kept the kiss light and nibbled her lips, slipping her buttons free from the bottom up. When he freed the last button at her throat, he pushed the fabric over her shoulders and exposed her lacy undergarments that suddenly felt too seductive and revealing.

Passion flared in his eyes and he dipped his dark gaze to her breasts, returning slowly to her mouth and at last to her eyes. “Let’s get this off you.”

Chapter 26

Obeying Duke’s gentle command, Faith turned her back to him. He slid the bodice of her dress off her shoulders and down her arms, tugged the sleeves over her hands, then draped the soft fabric across the dressing table. Then his warm lips touched the nape of her neck, and flutter-birds circled her stomach like dandelion puffs caught on a hard swirl of wind.

“Don’t move,” he whispered, his breath soft and warm against her bare skin.

She felt a gentle tug in her hair, as he removed the spray of wildflowers she’d worn. When he laid the tiny cluster of white and orange trillium and yellow snapdragons down, his eyes met hers in the mirror. Pin by pin, he freed her upswept locks, dropping the pins onto the table until she felt her mass of hair tumble down her back.

“Do you have a brush in your bag?”

She nodded.

He stepped away to retrieve her bag from beside the chamber door. When he set it down, she reached inside the small, worn valise and found the brush Adam had stolen.

“Sit,” he said, taking the brush from her. “I’d like to do this.”

She sat with her back to him, watching his reflection in the mirror. He pulled the brush through her curls, over and again, placing the bristles at the peak of her forehead and lightly dragging them back across her skull and down the length of her hair, which ended above her waist.

A sigh of pleasure slipped from her mouth and she closed her eyes.

“You like this?”

“Mmm . . . yes. My mother used to brush my hair for me.” And she’d craved those precious minutes of affection. “Mama owned a beautiful brush with stiff bristles and a porcelain back painted with roses. It was a gift to her, and my mother treasured it.” A sharp sense of loss filled Faith. She opened her eyes, needing to see Duke, needing to know she wasn’t alone anymore. “I wanted to keep the brush forever, but I left it behind when we moved.”

“Have you sent a letter to your old address?” he asked, drawing the bristles across her scalp in a soothing motion. “You could ask the new residents to look for the brush and forward it to you.”

She shook her head, disrupting his brush stroke. “No . . . I . . . the landlord probably tossed it out or gave it away.” She lowered her lashes, realizing she’d been foolish to mention her mother and open a conversation about her past, especially on her wedding night.

“I’m sorry you lost something so treasured. Now I understand why Adam wanted to give you a brush.”

She nodded, but dared not say another word about the brush or her mother lest she slip and mention the brothel she still owned. “Would you unlace my corset?”

He laid the brush on the dressing table, then untied the drawing ribbon on her corset and unlaced it for her.

As she pulled the stifling garment off her body and laid it on the bench beside her, Duke’s strong, warm hands slipped over her shoulders. Their eyes met in the mirror, but he gently tilted her head back until she was looking up at him.

He leaned down to kiss her.

Their mouths met upside down in an awkward but sensual kiss. He slowly moved his hands down over her collar bone, and slipped them beneath her chemise, easing his fingers over her breasts. She gasped against his mouth.

His tongue and teeth made small swipes and nibbles across her lips, making her crave a deeper kiss. She arched her back to lift her aching breasts into his warm palms. He captured her hard nipples between his thumb and finger, shaping and tugging them to aching peaks.

“I’ve wanted to do this from the minute I first saw you.”

But he hadn’t done it. He’d been a gentleman, even during their most passionate kisses.

His warm lips caressed her neck, her shoulder, and then he was kneeling on the floor behind her, turning her to face him. Her nose brushed his thick, shiny hair as he freed the buttons at the waist of her skirt, and she pressed her face into the silky soft strands to inhale the scent of him, soap and cologne and man.

He pulled her into his arms, kissing her deeply as he brought them both to their feet. His hands roamed her back, dipped inside her skirt to caress her bottom through layers of fabric, then moved back to her breasts. A moan of pleasure escaped her, and she slipped her fingers into his hair, deepening the kiss. His low, shuddering groan excited her, and a wild desperation edged their kiss.

Suddenly, he broke away. “I need to get out of this suit.”

“I’ll help you,” she whispered, wanting to please him, to be his wonderful willing wife, feeling as desperate and inflamed as he looked. She pushed the suit coat over his wide shoulders and down his muscled arms. He tugged his hands out of the sleeves, but his wince reminded her of his tender shoulder. She unbuttoned his shirt while he removed his tie. Then he wrested the gold links off his cuffs and shrugged out of his shirt, exposing his broad, bare chest.

When he stepped back to remove his trousers, her skirt that he’d unbuttoned fell to her ankles in a cloud of puffy silk, leaving her standing in her white chemise, drawers, and petticoats. His hands stilled at the waist of his trousers, a look of wonder and amazement filling his eyes. “You are so beautiful . . .”