Authors: Eugenia Riley
“
Mon Dieu
!” One glimpse of
his wife’s sweetly parted, trembling lips was all it took to incite Julian’s
ravenous senses. His head swooped down, his mouth slamming into hers with raw
hunger, his tongue invading her mouth and thrusting deeply, rapaciously.
An incoherent cry was smothered in
her throat. Floundering, Mercy at last managed to push him away, licking
braised lips that treacherously hungered for more of his plundering kisses.
“It’s not—what I wanted,” she whispered through her tears, her words sounding
weak and thready even to herself.
“You’re much too young to know
what you want,” he said, kissing her again.
Julian ravished her mouth with
fierce, shattering kisses. His tongue licked her lips, played with her teeth,
then plunged freely, tasting the sweetness inside in an appallingly seductive
way. Mercy moaned, drowning in razor-sharp sensation. A tight fist of desire clenched
deep inside her with an intensity that actually hurt. Julian continued kissing
her with this same unendurable intimacy until she shuddered deeply and
surrendered. He sensed her softening then and released her wrists. She curled
her arms around his neck and sobbed as she opened her mouth wide to the hot
thrust of his tongue.
After a moment, though, he
confused her by pulling back. He stared intently into her dilated eyes, as if
trying to gauge her feelings. “I’d like to suggest a compromise.”
“A compromise?” she repeated,
perturbed.
He stroked her stubborn chin with
his fingertips. “Let me hold you and kiss you this night. Anything else that
happens . . . will be up to you.”
Mercy blinked at him in amazement.
She hadn’t expected him to make
her
responsible for what happened
between them tonight. It was a clever stratagem on his part, she had to
concede. And she had no idea how to respond to it.
“There are already too many bad
memories between us,” he continued, gently nuzzling his warm lips across her forehead,
her temple, her cheek. “I’ll not make tonight another nightmare for us both to
live down. I’ll not have you looking back for the rest of our married life and
saying I forced you on our wedding night.”
Mercy was caught off-guard,
disarmed by his honesty and his sweet, sensuous kisses. “Well . . .”
“Mercy, I am being generous in
accepting less than a bridegroom’s due,” he continued sternly. “But you must
give something in return.”
“I knew there would be a
condition!”
“Just for tonight,” he said, ignoring
her flash of temper, “you must promise to set the past aside.”
She stared up at him, stunned.
This was the very last thing she had
ever
expected him to say, and it
devastated her defenses!
“Just for tonight,” he continued
in his deep, hypnotizing voice, “you must promise to start anew.” His
passionate eyes impaled her. “If you must reject someone tonight, let it be
me—not some ghost of our tormented past.”
Mercy gulped, totally undone by
his honesty, his probing gaze. By now, she was also reeling with guilt. For she
knew that she was largely responsible for the “torment” he spoke of, by
insisting, year after year, on blaming him for her father’s death. Somewhere in
the back of her mind, she knew she wasn’t being completely fair, yet she had
clung tenaciously to her bitterness.
“Well, Mercy?” he challenged.
Her cheeks heated with shame and
something more—stunning sexual excitement. Julian was so strong, so filled with
ardent determination. She realized he would likely have her tonight—one way or
the other. No one would rise up to save her—not even her own traitorous self.
“All right,” she murmured at last,
in a strangled tone.
He further shocked her then by
rolling off her and sitting up at the edge of the bunk. He smiled down at her.
“Surely the nuns prepared some lacy concoction for you to wear tonight,” he
murmured, extending his hand. “Why don’t you put it on?”
Mercy could only blink at him.
He chuckled, tugging her upright.
“I’m not going to rip your clothes off,
chère
.”
With commendable haste, she clambered
off the bunk. She went to her trunk, drew out her gown and wrapper, and
disappeared behind the dressing screen. She was trembling all over, her lower
limbs throbbing with a leaden lethargy. She wondered idly if she had lost her
mind. When she had married Julian earlier today, she had inwardly vowed to
fight him for the rest of her life; and now, mere hours after the wedding, she
was doing his bidding like a lamb.
Yet what was to be gained by
goading him into raping her? She realized he was right—it would be a disastrous
beginning to a marriage that might well already be doomed.
Her fingers trembled as she drew
off her dress and undergarments. Though the room was still warm, she shivered
as the air hit her naked body. She hastily donned her lacy handkerchief-linen
gown and matching wrapper.
After a long, agonizing moment,
she timidly emerged from behind the screen. Spotting her husband, she drew her
hand to her pounding heart.
Julian lay stretched out on the
bunk, looking sleek, hard-muscled, and dangerous. He was naked to the waist;
his chest appeared broader than ever. The sheet covered the dangerous territory
below his waist. He held a glass of champagne in one hand. The fervid look in
his eyes, the way his hair was tousled, the dark line of whiskers along his
strong jaw, were all unspeakably sensual. Her heart tripped into an even more
dizzying rhythm.
On the mattress next to him lay
her hairbrush; staring at it, she gulped. She dared to glance back up at him and
found his gaze burning into hers. A delicious tingling shivered across her
senses and teased mercilessly between her thighs.
“
Chère
, how beautiful you
look,” he murmured. “However, I’m afraid I mussed your hair when we tussled
before. Come here and drink this while I brush it.”
She was unprepared for the
intimate gesture—just as she was unprepared for
everything
having to do
with this wedding night! She went to sit gingerly on the edge of the bunk, her
back to him. Turning, she took the glass of champagne, struggling not to betray
a shudder when his warm hand touched hers. “Aren’t you having any?”
“
Non
. I had enough brandy
in the saloon.” With a kindly smile, he added, “Drink it, love. It should
help.”
Blushing, she turned away, sipping
the champagne as Julian began brushing her hair with exquisite gentleness. Her
senses swam at the slow, seductive rhythm, and the way his firm fingers
smoothed down her heavy locks.
“I’ve always loved your hair,” he
murmured. “It’s so thick and shiny.”
“Thank you,” she managed in a
high, squeaky voice.
“I’d adore it if we could have a
child with hair this flaming color,” he went on seductively, leaning over to
kiss a shiny lock.
Mercy shivered and gulped
champagne.
He reached around her and took the
emptied glass. “Do you want more?”
More what
? she wondered,
almost in a panic. She shook her head, her wide eyes meeting his tenderly
amused gaze. He leaned past her to set the glass on the floor.
Straightening, he gripped her chin
and turned her toward him. He studied her trembling mouth, her wide green eyes.
“Damn, you’re so incredibly lovely.”
Mercy was drowning in his words,
his passionate gaze. She had expected brutality tonight, not this sweet,
devastating seduction. In breathless anticipation, she watched his long lashes
lower over his eyes, watched his dark, fiercely handsome face slant down toward
hers. His warm breath seared her moist lips, then his hot mouth followed,
settling over her quivering lips in a practiced, titillating kiss.
Oh, she could not endure it! Now
his tongue was stealing between her slightly parted lips, nudging her mouth
open, dancing a provocative sexual rhythm. Whimpering as if from physical pain,
she reached for him, but he pulled away, frustrating her exquisitely.
He was tugging the wrapper from her
shoulders. His smoldering eyes met hers. “Join your husband in bed, madame,” he
whispered.
She bit her lip as she glanced
downward to the point where the covers shielded his body.
“You’re right, Mercy,” he
whispered with a wry chuckle. “I’ve nothing on beneath.”
Her face flaming, Mercy got under
the covers, positioning her body as far away from Julian’s mesmerizing heat as
possible. When he made no move to touch her, instead studying her with rueful
humor, she wailed in a cracking voice, “Can’t we proceed with this?”
He laughed heartily. “Already
conceding defeat, Mercy? How unlike you. I’ve told you that we shall not begin
this marriage with coercion.” He leaned toward her, his lips hovering just
above hers. “We have all night,
chère
.”
Reeling at his nearness, Mercy was
suddenly beyond redemption. With a wanton cry, she surged upward to lock her
mouth hard on his. He chuckled deep in his throat, a rumbling, triumphant
sound. Then, as her sweet tongue thrust between his lips, his chuckle became an
agonized groan and he hauled her roughly against him.
Mercy’s senses were aflame. The
feel of Julian’s hard, hot nakedness next to her sheer gown was electrifying.
Desire, sudden and violent, exploded between them. Mercy was sobbing from sheer
frustration, wantonly nipping at his mouth with her teeth; Julian was ripping
at the buttons to her gown. When he yanked the fabric away from her breast and
latched his mouth on her tight nipple, she cried out, writhing like a madwoman.
His slightly bearded face felt wonderful against her soft breast; the wetness
of his lips and tongue made
her
go wet, liquid, and achy inside. She
thrust her fingers wildly through his hair and tugged hard, pressing his lips
deeper, deeper, into the aching mound. He sucked greedily, licking and nipping
both of her breasts, intensifying her passion and his own.
Then his mouth abruptly moved
away, and he was breathing hard, his gaze crazed with passion. “Mercy—this is
going too fast—”
She stared back up at him, dizzy
with arousal. How could she tell him what she was feeling—that the last,
turbulent weeks between them had been leading up to this inexorable moment,
that when she fought him she was ultimately fighting
this
, what she most
desired?
“Julian, please,” was all she
could manage.
“
Nom de Dieu
,” he groaned,
catching her chin in his hand and grinding his mouth into hers again. A moment
later, he rolled off her and dragged the gown off her body. His eyes flashed
with brilliant desire as his gaze raked her hungrily. “My God—you’re
ravishing.”
“Julian . . .” She held out her
arms in shameless entreaty.
“
Non
,” he said firmly, his
chin stubborn. “I will look at you, my wife.”
He thrust back the covers and
slowly, thoroughly examined her supple nakedness in the wan golden light
drifting in through the high porthole. His hungry eyes took in her proud
breasts with their tight pink peaks, her long, silky midsection and small
waist, her full hips and the delicious swath of red curls at the joining of her
thighs, her long, slim legs.
The heat of his impassioned gaze
seared Mercy like a brand. Julian looked up to see her cheeks burning at his
perusal. Smiling, he drew a finger slowly down her body, beginning with her
lush, tempting lips, stroking down her smooth throat with its throbbing pulse,
tantalizing each taut nipple in turn, moving down her flat belly and lingering
at the delightful button, then settling in the lush down guarding her
womanhood.
“Oh, Julian!” she gasped, again
reaching for him.
“
Non
.” One hand pinned her soft
shoulder to the mattress as the errant finger dipped between her thighs. Mercy
went wild as Julian ever so gently caressed the nub of her femininity. Tears
burned her eyes and desire buzzed in her ears. She had never dreamed that his
touch could excite her so!
And that was before he leaned over
to kiss her even as he continued the deliberate sensual torture with his
fingertip. She could not bear the gentle seduction of his lips, the sweet
penetration of his tongue, the agonizing intimacy of his touch. She tossed her
head, but he only chuckled and followed her, trailing hot kisses across her
burning cheek, nipping at one corner of her mouth with his teeth, until she
turned and kissed him violently, moving her hips wantonly against his wonderful
hand.
At last he smiled down at her,
still stroking her provocatively. “You’re damp,” he whispered. “You want me.”
“
Oui
, I want you,” she
moaned without pride.
She tried to lurch forward to kiss
him again, but he held her captive. He leaned over, nibbling delicately at her
ear, even as his finger slipped deeper, stroking boldly. She bucked, breathing
in sharp, painful gasps. When his finger pressed insistently at the portal of
her womanhood, she winced slightly.
“You’re so small, so tight, my
precious virgin,” he whispered, his eyes filled with awe.
Meanwhile, Mercy was tearing at
the sheet. “Julian, please, stop torturing me.”
He laughed. “You think I’m doing
this to punish you?” His finger pressed inside her, and she tensed in mingled
pain and pleasure. “Do you?”
“Oh,
non
.”
“
Bien
,” he whispered, and
his finger left her.
She stared up at him in confusion.
Then her gaze became one of rapt abashment as he thrust back the covers,
revealing his own nakedness, the sleek muscled body covered with dark hair. Her
eyes grew enormous as her gaze fastened on his huge, erect member, standing
proudly in a thatch of dark curls.
Julian caught her hand. “Now you
will see me, wife, and see how much I want you.” He guided her hand to the
throbbing shaft.