After all, she was not with him for affection. He had to remember that or he’d be completely lost.
“Edward?”
“Hmm?” His focus slipped away from the memories that had been dormant so long, and he returned to the woman before him.
“I do believe you have a touch of Othello about you.”
He folded his arms over his chest, wondering how she could make light of him at this moment. “I’m not going to strangle you, if that’s what you are suggesting,” he drawled.
She paled, her entire body drawing up.
“Forgive me,” he quickly begged, desperate to go to her but unwilling to give her reason to fly. Horror washed over him at his own thoughtless cruelty. “You know I would never—”
“Do I?” She took a step back. Anger, not fear, blazed from her as her fingers came up, clasping her robe tighter about her petite form. “From what I have seen of men, they are capable of a great many things. My father never raised a hand to my mother until after they’d wed.”
After such a perfect day, why did he and Mary suddenly feel like opposites? How could he have allowed his own personal fears to endanger the one thing he desired above all? He swallowed back that painful proposition, not allowing it to take root, for it felt like a mocking truth echoing within his skull. “Mary, sweetheart . . . You know me. You must be aware, I would never hurt you in any way.”
The tension slipped out of her slowly and her hands fell back to her sides. “I am slowly awakening, Edward, and in truth I don’t know you. Not truly. You must admit you keep a fair bit of yourself secret from the world, including me.”
He ignored the veiled invitation to confide in her. He wouldn’t open himself to perusal. Not to anyone. He’d tried it once with her, admitting his mother had never loved him. He’d immediately regretted it.
But that didn’t mean she had not seen inside him for the man he was. Or maybe she did see. Maybe she saw that futile boy and then the even more futile man he had grown into. “I know this is difficult. I wish I could speak more, but I can’t, Mary. I can’t.”
“I understand,” she said wearily.
Frustrated anger at himself pummeled through him. Could he not give her what she so needed? Had this all been for naught and now he disappointed her? “I’m not sure you do.”
“Oh, Edward.” She sighed. “I am trying, but if I never know what you are truly feeling, how can I entirely understand? Perhaps you don’t wish me to. Perhaps you would rather push me away.”
Perhaps he was pushing her so that he would never have to speak of his experiences. He was meant to be helping her, not the other way around. “I am just a man, Mary, and right now a rather foolish one.”
Mary groaned, half amused, half dismayed. “Oh, Edward. You are not
just
anything. You are far more and I wish to know it all.”
Suddenly, as he stood before her, a terrifying dose of vulnerability seeped into him. He forced himself to stand there under her gaze, wondering what she truly thought of him. Fearing it. Surely, she could see what he truly was?
A man who didn’t deserve love, who could at best hope to atone for his family’s past.
She moved toward him, her hands slowly tracing along the tasseled belt at her waist. “You are
more
man,
more
fighter,
more
lover than anyone I have ever known.” With each phrase, she tugged at the belt, untying it. She lifted her eyes to his and deliberately opened her robe until the sharp contrast of deep velvet and white flesh was before him.
Desire rushed straight through his veins and his breath froze. The soft swells of her breasts were taut and inviting. Pink nipples brushed teasingly against the velvet, twin hard points offering themselves up to his kisses. And below, her slender belly curved down to the soft thatch of dark hair covering the secrets a man treasured above all.
Well, most men.
For it was her trust that he treasured most, and at last—at long last—she was giving it to him. “What are you doing?” he asked stupidly, his voice rough.
She raised her chin as she pulled the belt entirely free. “I am here to make love to you. After all, we deserve a chance to be together. To find something good in our trials.”
To find something good.
His fingers ached to reach for her, but he wouldn’t. Not yet. “You’re certain?”
Hesitantly, she reached up and eased the robe from her shoulders and let it drop to her feet. Standing entirely naked, with nothing but the light of the fire upon her body, she gave a small nod.
“Say it,” he whispered, wondering how he had been so blessed when the entirety of his life had been a graveyard. Here she was, offering him salvation in her trust.
“I want you,” she breathed.
A groan tore from his lips, and though he tried to slow his movements, he strode toward her, pulling her naked body up against his. Hot skin to skin, soft against roughness, rubbing and caressing—he couldn’t think of anything but giving her everything.
Controlling his unruly passion, he tilted her head back and lowered his mouth to her neck. The pulse of her vein beat wildly against his lips. For all her bravado, she was afraid. Though he longed to make her his without delay, he would have to go slowly. Indeed, he wished to go slowly. There would be only one chance to show Mary that he was nothing like the men she had known.
He still cradled the brandy snifter in his left hand. Carefully, he lifted it to his lips and drew some of the burning liquid into his mouth. Then he kissed her passionately, slowly, allowing her to adapt and open to him. The brandy trickled like honey, a sweet burning desire between them.
She swallowed and licked at his tongue as if she wanted more. As if she would bind them.
Quietly, he took her hand and led her to the bed. He sat down upon it and looked up at her wary face. “Our bodies were made for pleasure, not pain, Mary.”
She nodded sharply, clearly doubting, even if she had kissed him as though no other man in the world existed.
“It is only some who bastardize what is meant to happen in passion and pleasure.” He took another full drink of brandy, then placed the snifter beside his bed. Drawing her to stand between his thighs, he slid his hands up her back and offered his mouth up for her kiss.
She rested her fingertips on his shoulders, then lowered her lips to his. The gentle touch of her tongue nearly undid him. He opened to her and let her taste the brandy again.
The kiss turned from gentle to hungry, a give-and-take of tongue and mouth and soft gasps of pleasure. He stroked his hands up and down her back, then eased her down to lie upon the bed beside him.
Gently, he stroked his palm along the side of her face. He had never felt this tenderness before, nor the longing to give all of himself so that she might have everything. Propping himself up on one arm, he allowed himself to take in her body. She no longer had the harsh edges and bones of a woman starved. Now she was soft, with the look of a well cared-for lady. He’d done that. Brought her back from the edge of pain to care. That was exactly as it should be. And that look upon her face, of wonder and determination? It was his—his to care for, and to ensure it was never replaced by fear again.
After all these years of shouldering his parents’ scandal, of never believing himself deserving of intimacy with a woman like Mary, here she was, giving herself to him. And he was going to savor every moment.
Mary didn’t understand the feelings racing through her. It was more than curiosity awakening every inch of her skin. Something was growing deep inside her. Those hot brandy kisses breathed life into her and now it was flowing through her breasts, making them tighter, fuller.
He had yet to caress her body, but just the spicy glance of his eyes was enough to give her this feeling of desire. It was unfathomable. There was a strange power in it, even though she was doing nothing but offering herself. He wanted to please her. Even without words, she knew it. It was the only thing that mattered to him, shining like diamonds in his usually opaque eyes.
Mary lifted her hand to his hard face and stroked his brow. “Make love to me, Edward.”
He said nothing in turn, but followed her request. Reaching back, he pulled his linen shirt over his head and let it drop to the floor. He placed his hand at the base of her neck, then stroked not down but up. His fingertips trailed over her chin, then teased her cheekbones. The featherlight touch traced her lips, then eyelids, each movement sure and full of tenderness.
It had never occurred to her that such touches could awaken her. The core of her body grew heavy with fire. Her own breath quickened and she wound her hands into the soft sheets, half of her afraid of what he would do next, the other half sliding into what he was offering to her.
He lingered, his mouth hovering above hers. “If I do anything you don’t like, anything that makes you uncomfortable, tell me and I shall cease.”
She couldn’t bring herself to answer, so she merely nodded. His hooded lids were molten with desire. In the gentlest of caresses, he slid his fingers over her breasts. The faint touch sent shocking sensation through her. A thousand tingling points danced upon her skin and she arched under his touch.
“Mary,” he murmured. “Open your eyes.”
She snapped her lids open, not even realizing she had closed them. His black hair was right in her sight.
“I want you to see
me.
To think only of me.” He traced his tongue over a taut nipple. “To know you are
here.
”
A shuddering breath escaped her lips at his care and her hands shot up, winding into his jetty hair. He sucked and licked and kissed her breasts, teasing them to the point of worship. No one had ever touched her thusly. She didn’t want to think of what
had
been done. But certainly there’d been no reverence of her body.
He slid down the bed and sat back onto his haunches. In the candle and fire glow, he was a maze of shadows. Hard planes and muscles worked beneath skin bronzed from the sun.
A thrilling anticipation tightened her chest as she gazed on him. On Edward.
He massaged his splayed palms over her stomach and down to her hips before he took her thighs in his careful grip and parted them. She pressed her lips into a firm line, keeping her gaze locked upon him. Here was the moment she dreaded. The moment when all the pleasure would turn to pain.
He eased his knees between her calves and then adjusted himself down so that his big body lay between her thighs. “I’m going to kiss you now.”
How on earth could he kiss her from there? “Edward, I don’t understand—” And then she did. His mouth traced feather light over her hot core and she cried out in alarm and sudden pleasure.
“Do you wish me to stop?” The heat of his breath against her folds teased her all the more.
She flicked her vision to the top of the canopied bed, her eyes taking in the intricately folded crimson fabric. Did she wish him to stop this shocking invasion of her most private place? She slipped her hands into his hair and pressed him closer to her burning center.
He needed no more encouragement. In hypnotic circles his tongue worked over a part of her body she’d never known existed. The smallest point at the apex of her center tightened into the most intense pool of pleasure. With gentle sucks of his mouth and flicks of his velvet tongue, he worked her into a fever.
She tossed her head, and her chest rose and fell in frantic breaths. It was almost terrifying, the way she responded to his suggestions.
Then a single finger teased her opening and she tensed.
“Do you trust me?”
She wished to say yes, but she didn’t. “I’m afraid,” she confessed.
Edward began to move away. “Let me hold you, then.”
“No!”
“Mary, please.”
“I don’t wish you to stop,” she protested, hating herself for being such a coward, wishing . . . she could give herself to him pure, not tainted.
“But—”
“Please, Edward,” she whispered as tears stung her eyes. “I don’t want to be afraid any longer. Show me I don’t need to be afraid.”
“Oh, Mary.” His voice seemed to crack in his throat. “You break my heart.”
How could she tell him that hers was already broken? That no matter what they did, she didn’t think it would ever mend? Still, she could have this. Couldn’t she?
He climbed back up the bed and pulled her close to his hard body.
She frowned. “I told you—”
“I want you to be in control of this.” He lay beside her and pressed a soft kiss to her lips before he urged, “Take your hand and put it on top of mine.”
She craned her neck back, her brow arching with confusion. “Why?”
He closed his eyes and smiled. “For this once, trust that my superior knowledge in these matters will work to your advantage.”
She gave a small nod. “I suppose I can’t begrudge you that.”
He smiled, his eyes alight with something stronger than need. “Thank you.”
Tentatively, she placed her hand over his strong one. Then he lifted his palm and rested it between her thighs, his fingers resting over her folds.
She was unable to blink at the stunning sensation of his caress.
“Now guide my hand to do as you desire.”
She had no idea how to go about it. But she wasn’t going to give up. She moved her fingers over his in a slow circle, mirroring how his tongue had touched her with such evocative sensation.
His fingers slid into her slick folds and teased the moisture all over her. In one stroke, he touched a part that was so pleasurable it was almost too much to bear. She gasped back a cry of amazement.
“Embrace the pleasure, sweetheart,” he whispered, pressing kisses over her temple and cheeks, leaving her mouth free to draw in shocked breaths.
Understanding now what she could do, she moved her hand over his in circles and pressed down harder, then lighter. He followed her every command until she was lifting her hips from the bed.
“I need—” She panted. “I need.”
He let his middle finger rest just over her opening and she pushed down so that it slid into her core. At the same time, he pressed down on the top of her folds with his thumb and her entire body contracted with a wave of pure, wild joy. It flowed over her again and again. Her voice rose to an unrestrained cry and he bent down and swallowed it up with a kiss.