Perfect Bride (25 page)

And then cursed the very heavens themselves.

For despite his most stringent preparations, her frail barrier of innocence barred him entrance. And though he wanted his possession to be slow and un
hurried and careful, the feel of her silken channel clasped tight around his surging helm tempted him past bearing. Knowing he was the first, that no other man had touched her like this, sent a raw, primitive rush shooting through his veins.

His eyes squeezed shut. Blindly he thrust...

Her tiny little cry was like a knife to the heart. He knew she tried to smother it, but it was too late. Se
bastian despised himself in that moment. Christ, if he’d hurt her . . .

Fool!
A voice inside him chastised fiercely. How could he not? She was so tiny. And he was not.

His gaze slid to where their bodies met, where dark, wiry curls mingled with silken fleece. It was a sight of blatant intimacy—a sight so rawly erotic his mouth went dry. Christ, and she’d taken but half his length . . .

Torture. Ecstasy. Which was it? Oh, God. How could he stop? How could he
not
?

Though every instinct urged him to seat himself to the hilt, he couldn’t. He froze, just as terrified to withdraw, afraid of causing her still more pain.

“Sebastian?” Her breath rushed by his ear. Her fingers strayed to his nape, touched his hair, a soft cry of confusion on her lips. “Sebastian ...What’s wrong?”

He hated himself for the sudden doubt that clouded her beautiful golden eyes.

“I hurt you,” was all he could say. “I hurt you.”

Her fingers stilled. “You didn’t,” she said faintly.

He could feel himself pulsing. Against her. Inside her. “I did,” he said hoarsely. “I heard you. Oh, God, Devon, I want you so much! Can’t you feel how I want you?” His eyes darkened. “But I’m afraid. Afraid I’ll hurt you again.” He floundered. “You’re so tiny,” he whispered. “And I’m so—”

Understanding dawned. Suddenly her fingertips were on the hardness of his mouth, quelling the flow of words. “I’m fine!” she cried softly. “Truly!” Even as she spoke, silken thighs clamped tight around his, as if she sought to imprison him fast within her. Slen
der arms locked around his shoulders.

Her lips formed a tremulous smile, lips that hov
ered but a breath beneath his. In her eyes shone a depth of emotion so pure and unguarded he felt humbled.

“Take me now,” she whispered. “Make me yours.”

“Devon,” he ground out.

Her smile wavered. “You’ll hurt me if you don’t.” Her voice caught on a half sob. “You’ll hurt me if you
won’t
.” Her voice finally broke, and so did he.

He plunged forward, a powerful lunge that took him to the gate of her womb. Her tender chasm more than gave way. Hot, clinging flesh melted around his heat and hardness; it was impossible to tell where his body ended and hers began.

“I belong to you now,” she cried against his throat. “I do.”

He buried his head in the hollow of her shoulder. “Devon.” He whispered her name, a half-strangled sound, for he had no breath for more. “
Devon
.”

His mouth took hers, a fiery exchange of sweet
ness. Passion soared. Again and again he slammed inside her, yielding to the blind, white-hot need that consumed them both.

Her back arched. Her hips sought his, their bodies in perfect union. Her nails scraped his back. Her head tossed from side to side on the pillow, then all at once she screamed and went rigid, convulsing tight around his searing heat.

Her spasms fueled his own. Hurtling toward the edge, he drove inside her one last time. A shudder wracked his form. He groaned hoarsely, for nothing could have prepared him for this. His seed erupted, spurting again and again, hot and scalding.

It was the most powerful, intense orgasm he’d ever experienced.

Moved to the depths of his being, he had to wait a very long time before he was able to gather the strength to roll to his side. Cradling her against him,
he bent his head and kissed her mouth, with long,
lingering sweetness. And all the while she was smiling. He trailed a finger over her nose. “Go to sleep,
minx,” he whispered. “Yes, my lord,” she surprised him by saying

promptly. And the deed was done nearly as promptly. Sebastian was amazed. He wasn’t sure if he
should be pleased or offended. As for him, he knew that sleep would not come so easily with this en
chanting creature in his bed.

Alas, he was wrong.

t was the click of the door that woke her. Prying open an eye, she saw Sebastian striding across the chamber, clad in a crimson brocade robe. She must have been sleeping quite heavily, for she hadn’t been aware of his leaving the bed. The last thing she remembered was being held fast against his length, his arms a haven that shielded her from all harm. She recalled stirring once. His arms came harder around her, as if he couldn’t bear to let her go.

A wondrous thought, that. She wanted to savor not just the heated passion that sizzled between them but the breathless feeling of closeness, of be
longing. She needed to stow it away deep inside for the days when...But no.
No
. She wouldn’t think about that. She wanted to allow nothing to taint this, the most precious memory of her life.

He came to sit beside her on the bed, one hand be hind his back. The other drifted over the slope of one bare shoulder. Hers lay curled on the counterpane,
just beneath her chin. He plucked it from its resting place. With his lips he nuzzled each knuckle. He turned her palm so that it lay cradled within his, then kissed each fingertip in turn.

In all her days Devon had never felt anything so exquisitely erotic.

“Good morning,” he said at last.

That much belated greeting made her sorely want to laugh. The tenderness that lurked in his gray eyes made her throat ache. It struck her then that she was happy. Deliriously happy. She couldn’t remember ever feeling quite so comfortably content.

“Did you sleep well?” he said gently.

“I did,” she returned softly, then frowned. “But obviously you did not, if you’re up prowling about at this hour.” She took in the lingering shadows of night that had only now begun to recede through the window. She scolded him gently. “You work entirely too hard, Sebastian—”

“I wasn’t working. I was in the garden.”

“The garden! At this hour?”

“It’s sunrise.” He pointed toward the window, where the eastern sky was awash with a dozen shades of pearly coral.

Devon peered at him closely. His mouth quirked, as if he found something vastly amusing. Why, he appeared almost mischievous!

Sebastian ...mischievous?

The polished refinement that so defined the essence of this man—the aristocratic marquess of Thurston—was gone. His robe was loosely knotted at his waist. It revealed a dark slice of bronzed chest, a sight of such stark virility that her stomach clenched oddly. With his jaw dark and shadowed
with his beard, he was as unabashedly masculine as ever. But there was a difference now.

A lock of dark hair spilled onto his forehead. She’d never seen him so relaxed, even carefree. His air of boyish playfulness made her heart turn over.

Cautiously she decided it might also be cause for alarm. “Sebastian?” she queried sweetly.

“Yes, love?”

“What do you have behind your back?”

Dark brows climbed high. “Why, not a thing!” His expression and tone were in complete accord—both vehemently declared his innocence.

And both were negated when he scooted back just a smidgen.

Determinedly Devon surged forward. Too late she remembered she wasn’t wearing a single stitch of clothing. With a gasp she lunged for the coverlet.

It was rescued just in the nick of time. Not that he hadn’t seen her before—glory be, he’d kissed and caressed every square inch of her! But it was no longer night, and, well, if she was feeling rather shy, she couldn’t help it. This business of appearing naked before him was something that would take a little time to become accustomed to.

It didn’t help that Sebastian was laughing out
right, the rogue! Devon glared, trying to summon an indignant outrage. While she wasn’t precisely appre
hensive, she was definitely suspicious of the unholy gleam that lit his eyes to pure silver. For the first time she glimpsed a hint of the rake.

Soft lips pursed. “Show me what you’re hiding.”

“I’ll do more than show you.” That devilish smile widened. “What say I let you guess?”

“Agreed,” she stated promptly.

“Then lay back against the pillow, and bring your hands alongside your head.”

She did as he requested. “Like this?” she said breathlessly.

“Exactly like that. Now, hush, my little love, and close your eyes.”

My little love
. The endearment made her blood sing. If she’d been deliriously happy before, she was positively ecstatic now.

Velvety softness traced the tip of her nose, tickled her cheeks and came to rest against the center of her lips. Scent that was incredibly sweet assailed her.

She inhaled deeply. Her fingers curled into her palms. “A rose,” she said breathlessly. “That’s why you were in the garden.”

“Just so,” he murmured. “Now, you may open your eyes. But be very still. I’m conducting an experiment.”

The next thing she knew, the coverlet lay bunched around her hips. On the fringes of her vision, she could see her naked breasts, creamy ivory flesh tipped with coral. So much for modesty, she de
cided hazily, feeling the heat of a blush proclaim her embarrassment.

But she didn’t move.

Sebastian’s gaze was locked on her breasts. His eyes had gone dark. A long, hushed silence followed. The play of emotion on his features took her by storm. She felt herself touched beyond measure as both awe and wonder sped across his features.

“Glorious. Absolutely... glorious.” With almost agonizing slowness, that tender rosebud traced the boundaries of one breast, dipped into the valley be
tween, only to scale the other. There it trailed a tor
menting path around the dusky summit.

“Sunrise,” he whispered, “is what this rose is called. And my God, but he was right ...your nipples...are the exact same color as this rose.”

Devon, almost mesmerized by the reverence she sensed in him, was on the verge of reaching for him. She stopped in mid-movement.

“He?” she echoed. “
He
?” She swallowed hard. “Sebastian, who do you mean?
Who
was right?”

He blinked, finally dragging his eyes from her breasts. “Why, Justin. He said that your nip—”

“Yes,
that
I heard! But do you mean to say that Justin...that your brother
saw
my”—faith, but she could hardly bring herself to say it—“my breasts?”

“I’m afraid so,” he said cheerfully.

Devon was mortified. “No,” she moaned. “It’s not true.”

“Well,” he said lightly, “if you don’t believe me, then you’ll simply have to ask him yourself.”

Devon dove for the coverlet. “Oh, God,” she moaned. “I shall never be able to face him again.”

Sebastian chuckled richly. “Oh, come, it’s not as bad as all that.”

“It didn’t happen to you!” She glared at him over the satin binding. “Precisely when did this occur?”

“The night of your injury.”

She gasped. “So while I lay helplessly, the two of you ogled me!”

“It wasn’t like that.” He laughed. “He helped me bandage your side. When it was done, I eased you to your back and that’s when—”

“Sebastian! You needn’t say any more!”

“But we weren’t ogling,” he protested. “I was very gallant. I immediately covered you up. I was feeling rather possessive of you even then, you know.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

He made no response. Instead his smile deepened.

“What?” she said weakly. “There’s more?”

His eyes were dancing with mirth. “Well, I didn’t allow Justin to ogle. But perhaps I did, just a bit. Because I fear I must confess...” He paused dramatically.

“What now?” she groaned.

“I admired your glorious breasts again,” he con
fided softly, “later that night.”

“You are the most wicked man to ever walk this earth!”

“Thank you,” he said gravely, “I don’t believe any
one has ever called me wicked before. I must say, I rather think I like it.”

She clubbed him with the pillow. “You, sir, are no gentleman!”

“Would you feel better if I allowed you to ogle me?” Jet brows slashed up and down.

Devon couldn’t help it. He looked silly. Ridicu
lous, really. Oh, she tried to contain it, but a smile emerged, and then a giggle. And one became two . . . Sebastian tugged her into his powerful embrace. To
gether they collapsed onto the bed in a fit of laughter.

And when it was over...he simply held her. Held her in a blessedly simple moment, where the outside world ceased to exist.

At length, they stirred. Sebastian curled his fin
gers around an ear, smoothing a tangle of gold away from her cheek. Devon’s smile was tremulous and suddenly tenuous as well. Her lips parted. She tried to summon some light, breezy phrase, but the rise of a dark brow revealed she’d given herself away.

Unable to stop herself, she buried her face against
the breadth of his shoulder. With his knuckles, Se bastian brushed the downy curve of her cheek.

“What is it?” he murmured. “You can tell me any
thing, Devon. You can
say
anything. Don’t you know that?” Threading his fingers in her hair, he pulled her head back so he could see her.

Her breath caught painfully, for suddenly she couldn’t erase the fear seated deep in her breast. She loved him. She loved him so much, but where would it lead?
Oh, Sebastian,
she longed to cry,
what will hap
pen next
? Did he still intend to marry her off? No. He couldn’t. She wouldn’t.

But what about him? What about his quest for a bride? Who would he choose...?

“Devon,” he said softly. Insistently.

She swallowed. “Very well then,” she said, her voice very small. “When you walked in this morn
ing, I was afraid.”

“Afraid! Of what?”

Her gaze skipped away. “I thought you might be sorry about last night”—she took a breath—“sorry that we—”

“Hush.
Hush
. Now then, look at me. No, not the window behind me. No, not at my ears! Ah, yes, that’s the way.”

Reluctantly she complied. There was no mistaking the gravity of his features. Yet there was something brewing in the depths of his eyes—a trace of un
likely amusement.

She dragged in an unsteady breath. “Are you try
ing to make me laugh?”

“I don’t know,” he responded. “Am I succeeding?”

Devon didn’t laugh, but she
did
smile—oh, but she couldn’t stop the veriest hint from crossing her lips.

Sebastian returned that smile, his own just as fleet
ing. With the pad of his thumb he caressed the side of her neck. “I am not sorry. I am
not
,” he empha
sized. “I have no regrets. Absolutely none.”

The tenderness that lurked in his eyes nearly made her come undone. “Truly?” She started to raise her hand to touch the bristly stubble on his cheek. He snared it and pressed a kiss to her palm, then twined their fingers and brought their clasped hands down to rest on one steely thigh.