What the Groom Wants (14 page)

She twisted slightly in his grip. “You call me that because some sailor was going deaf?”

“I call you that because you looked like a goddess, standing there. I could see you painted in the sky on a sun-streaked day with your hair streaming back. Your chariot would be the north wind blowing strong.” He tightened his hold and pressed his lips close to her ear. “And because all sailors pray for a good wind, I did too, and she always looked like you.”

She didn’t answer, but he could tell she was affected by his words. Her body stilled, but she was molded so tight to him that he felt it when she let her weight fall against his. Then she touched the back of his hands, pressing her palm flat as she held him against her. But like the wind, she never said a word that he could hear. She just touched him while she kept her secrets hidden.

“Did you never think of me?” he asked, startled to find the question on his lips. “In all the years, did you never…”

“I did,” she answered, “but not the way you think.”

When she didn’t elaborate, he tried to stop his questions. She was the kind of person who closed up when pressed, but he couldn’t hold back. He needed to know if she had longed for him, as he had wanted her. “Was it the presents? Did you know from the beginning that they came from me?”

“No. I wondered, of course. It was possible, but not likely.”

“Not likely!” he snorted. “Why ever not?”

“Because you were beyond me, even then. Surely you remember how the girls pined for you? Handsome, smart, and with a laugh that could charm a bird from the trees.”

He tried to remember. “Mostly, I remember the water, the boats, the stories.”

She laughed as she dropped her head back against his chest. “You boys are so blind sometimes.” She twisted to look at him. “Do you not know what it is like for poor girls? We work endlessly with our mothers, and as soon as we are able, we apprentice. Sewing, laundry, kitchen or maid service, if we are lucky. The only escape is with a man who will provide a good home.” She sighed. “Duke or not, you were always going to provide for your wife. You cared for your mother and your sister. We all saw that.”

He flinched, remembering too well how he had failed to protect his sister.

“You did,” she emphasized. “All the girls wanted you, myself included.”

“Because I would provide a good living?”

“Because you laughed, Radley. Because you always had a kind word for even the lowest among us. Because you were handsome and had a distant connection to a duke. And because you treated us well and gave us all hope that we were special to you.”

“Is that how you felt?” he asked. “Special to me?”

She snorted. “I wished, I pretended, but even then, I knew the truth. I was one of many. The only reason you remembered me was because I helped Caroline.”

“Is that what you think?” he asked.

She nodded. “Of course.”

He stepped away, but kept hold of her hand. “Come with me. I have something to show you.”

She moved easily, but her steps were slow. “Where are we going?”

He smiled. To his cabin. Perhaps to his bed, or perhaps not. He no longer cared, but he would kiss her soon, and he would not do it in full view of the watch. “It won’t take long,” he promised. Then he chuckled. “I promise you are safe.”

“I am not afraid.”

Perhaps she should be. His intentions toward her this night were hardly honorable. “Then come.”

A moment later, they stepped into the cabin. He lit the lantern then shut the door. His trunk was still here, and he pulled it open. The item he sought was not on top, but neither had it dropped to the bottom. And when he brought it out, he set it on the captain’s desk for her to see.

She gasped at her first glimpse. And then, as he showed her all of it, she pressed a hand to her mouth in shock.

Wendy’s heart began to thrum in her throat, and the heat in her skin made her shrug off Radley’s coat as she looked. He’d sketched her. Not just once, but dozens of times. Dozens of drawings, one after another, of herself standing on the docks. Sometimes she waved at him, at others she was standing with her hair down and her gown pressed impossibly against every curve of her body.

He stood beside his work, silently turning page after page. She saw herself sitting as he’d described—a goddess on a cloud of white. Other times, it was her face or her eyes. Once, just her mouth pressed tight, but with a curve to her lips. He drew her often like that. Her chin lifted as if in defiance, and her lips curved upward without a full smile.

She looked to his face, trying to understand what he meant.

“You were special to me from the very beginning,” he said.

“No,” she whispered. “I became important the day you left.”

He frowned, considering the words. “I saw you before. I remember you.”

“But not like this. Not…” She swallowed. “Not sketched from memory.”

Of course, it wasn’t a perfect likeness. Her chest wasn’t nearly so full, her legs not so long. In fact, his goddess was at least a foot taller than she was. Her neck was long, her skin flawless.

“I sketched you the first night on board. I didn’t have a book then. I drew you on everything—wood, paper, scraps of sailcloth. And everyone called you Wind.”

She didn’t know how to react to becoming a goddess to an entire ship’s crew. She didn’t know what to think of such devotion from a man who’d been so little in her mind these years. Of course she’d thought of him. Of course she remembered him. But as a fond dream given up sometime between childhood and adult responsibilities.

“Radley,” she whispered, “this is not me.”

“No,” he said as he stepped around the table to touch her cheek. “You are much more.”

“I—”

“Your chin is always lifted because you are determined. Sometimes I make your eyes narrow because you see things that others do not. You knew that I had to leave home because I would only become bitter in London.”

“Henry needed something to do, and you were my means to get him responsible work.”

“And even as his younger sister, you saw what he needed—what we both needed—and you made us go.”

She winced. “You give me too much credit.”

“Whose idea was it to start a dress shop?”

She looked at him. “It was mine.”

“Of course it was. Would Helaine have done it without you?”

“She needed a push. She didn’t see her own value.”

“But you did. And you made her take the leap.” He touched her chin. “You are more amazing than you realize.”

She believed him. When he looked at her like that, she believed everything he said. She had been the force that pushed him and her brother into sailing. But she did nothing more than
see
—see where they needed to go. She was the one who began the dress shop, but that was for her own sanity. She hated toiling for weeks on end with little coin to show for it. The money went to whoever owned the shop, and so she had been determined to get a shop of her own. Finding Helaine had been a stroke of good luck. Capitalizing on the woman’s talents had been a mercenary trade for her own good, not Helaine’s.

“I am not as good as you think,” she whispered.

“Perhaps you are even better.”

“I barter,” she said. “I traded on Caroline’s tragedy to get the lessons I wanted.”

“You saw what she needed and got what you both wanted. That is a talent, not a failing.”

She laughed. “The priests might not see it that way.”

“But I do, my Wind.” His fingers trailed into her hair.

She had a moment to decide. A moment to fight the descent of his mouth. She didn’t.

Never would she have another chance. Never would a man cherish her as Radley did now. She knew they would never marry. The circumstances of their lives were too far apart. At best, she could hope to become his mistress.

And, at that moment, mistress did not seem like so terrible a fate. Mistresses to dukes were feted throughout the ton. They were scandalous, to be sure, but they had lives that were often better than the wives.

If she were to choose her fate, then she chose this one. To be cherished right now by this man. To give her virginity to someone who saw her as a goddess. How many women could say such a thing?

She had no idea where her life would take her, but for this moment, he was the best man she would ever have. Tonight was the best moment in her life. She would take all she could, and she would be grateful.

His mouth touched hers, and she opened herself to him. His tongue thrust inside, and she arched her body into his. His hands brushed her wrap off her shoulders, and she wished her gown and corset could be dispensed with as easily. And when he pulled back to look into her eyes, she whispered one word.

“Yes.”

She watched his eyes widen as understanding hit. Then, before she could draw another breath, he scooped her up in his arms. Suddenly, she was flying—or at least it felt that way—and her laughter rang, as she’d never heard herself. When had she ever made so happy a sound?

She twined her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his. He more than met her, and their tongues began the thrust and parry with which she had become familiar. Then he set her on the feather bed, sinking in as he followed her down.

She felt his thighs first, hard and strong, pressed tight against her legs. Her skirt was in the way, but the pressure had her knees spreading anyway, giving him room to settle deeper—harder—against her.

His hips came next, his cock a hot thickness that was a shocking intrusion. Never had she felt anything like this, and it was pressed against her pelvis. But as his kiss continued, she felt herself move against him. There had been no conscious decision to press, but her body was fast taking over. She moaned when she had no idea why. She pushed against him to feel that hard heat push back.

He kept his upper body off her, his weight on his arms, but the air between them felt like a furnace. Or perhaps, more accurately, a brand. She would never again think of kissing without remembering this sizzling heat on her chest and the grind of his cock against her.

Abruptly, she twisted her head away, gasping as her mind came to grips with what was happening. She’d said yes, and yet, she had no true knowledge of what they were about to do. She’d heard of the mechanics, of course, but this
feeling
was more than she could handle.

She said nothing, but he seemed to understand. He dropped light kisses to her cheek, her jaw, and then nuzzled her neck.

“I won’t hurt you,” he said softly, between tiny bites. “I swear you can trust me.”

She knew better than to believe that. Even if she didn’t know tales of girls who’d made that mistake, she’d listened to men brag of their conquests at the gaming hell. And yet, as much as her mind told her to stop, to keep herself pure, the rest of her believed. At a core level, she knew Radley would be true. And so, she turned her face back to him.

“Tell me what to do. I don’t know what to do.”

He chuckled. “That’s my Wind—always doing something. But in this…” He pressed a soft, slow kiss to her lips. “I’ll do the work.” He grinned. “Trust me.”

He didn’t say it as a question, but she answered it as such. “I do.”

He grinned. “Remember those two words, Wind.” Then, before the significance of what he said hit her, he set his mouth to hers again.

She was busy kissing him, losing in the duel, as he touched every part of her mouth in a deeply intimate way. She barely noticed that he shifted his weight to her side, sliding to lie beside her. She meant to object, but she hadn’t the time. A moment later, she felt his hand flowing over her belly, up to her breast. Her corset kept her from feeling more than his heat and a little pressure, but it was enough to set her chest to tingling.

But he didn’t stop at her breast. Instead, he flowed upwards to stroke her bare neck and the flesh above her bodice. It was a slow caress, done with the calloused pads of his fingers, and the feeling was so exquisite she broke from his kiss to focus on his hand. Long, sweet strokes, meandering circles, and the frustrating constriction along the top of her bodice.

“Shall we take it down?” he whispered against her ear. “Shall we loosen the corset to let you breathe?”

She nodded, not able to speak, but he was lifting her so that he could find the buttons of her dress. The pins in her hair bothered her, so she pulled them out, letting her curls tumble about her shoulders. Her hair had never been more than something to pin up or tie away, but as her locks tumbled over her shoulders, she felt every curl brush across her bare shoulders.

“Beautiful,” he whispered as he ran his fingers through one cascading curl. “Like honey in sunlight.” Then his finger slid to the skin above her right breast. “In a pot of purest ivory.”

She bit her lip, the awe in his voice making her heart swell and her body sway toward him. She did not like being this vulnerable—that mere words could make her melt—but there was no denying his effect on her.

He’d pulled her gown to her elbows, revealing her corset and shift. She shrugged her arms out of the restriction, then tugged at the ties of her corset. A moment later, she was able to take a deep breath as he lifted the heavy thing away.

But he had large hands and nimble fingers. As the corset lifted away, he pulled at her shift. She could have stopped him, of course. She could have held onto it, but instead, she rose enough that he could pull it over her head. And with that motion, her gown slipped down too. Before she realized the full extent of what she’d done, her dress fell, her shift lifted away, and she half stood, half crouched before him, completely naked.

She dropped down to sit on the bed, her cheeks flaming, and her hands widening over her groin before he caught them. With one hand, he clasped the fingers from both hands and drew them to his lips.

“You’re beautiful.”

She swallowed, but didn’t say anything. This was so new. But more than that, too many thoughts were bouncing around her brain. She couldn’t contain them all, neither could she grab hold of one to speak. Which gave him time to brush a hand over her face.

“Close your eyes,” he said.

She did so as his fingers brushed across them.

“Set your hands here.” He pressed them to the mattress on either side, a little behind her body. That meant she was seated there with her chest exposed.

She bit her lip, her heart thumping hard in her throat. And then, suddenly, she felt him. His mouth, his lips, his tongue on her right nipple.

She cried out at the suddenness, but within a second, she relaxed into the wonder of it. He sucked on her breast, and she shuddered at the exquisite feeling. A stroke of his tongue followed by suction, and her whole world shrank down to what he did.

She felt her head drop back. Her breath was quick and shallow, then when she felt his hand on her other breast, shaping and squeezing, she gave herself up completely to him. Her body was his, and she arched her back to give him better access. Then he pinched her other nipple, and she felt her belly clench—a sweet tightening and release done within her stomach and her thighs.

Then he eased off. His mouth left her breast to trail kisses across her skin. He lifted off her while his right hand continued to tease her other nipple. But all too soon, that stopped as well. She opened her eyes in confusion to see him looking at her.

“Radley?”

“Don’t move. Just…” He swallowed. “I want to remember you like this. You are so beautiful.”

She sat upright unconsciously, but he touched her cheek, silently urging her to lean back again. She went slowly, resting her weight on her arms. Her breasts felt five times larger, and her nipple was cold from the wet of his mouth. Both peaks were straining so tight they ached. And her heart beat hard in her throat. And, all the while, he was watching her, his eyes so intense.

“Your hair,” he whispered, “a wild tangle. Your cheeks flushed and your lips…” He trailed a finger across her swollen mouth. “Cherry red and tasting like fine wine.”

She licked her lips, feeling his heat as it made every part of her swell. He groaned at the sight even as his gaze slid lower.

“Your skin is like the finest ivory, only impossibly soft. And you smell like lemons and Indian spice.” Then his gaze fastened to her breasts. “You are shaped so… so pert.”

She blinked, not understanding what he meant. Then he touched her, lifting one breast as he stroked a thumb across her nipple.

“Enough to hold, and the peak lifted for me.” He looked at her face. “Drop your head back. Please. And lift…” She did as he bid, and he sucked in a breath. His hand fell away, and he just looked. “So perfect.”

She swallowed, her body a wanton thing under his gaze. For the first time, she felt a confidence in her body, a wildness that he brought out in her.

Then, as if mesmerized, he stared as he stood. Without lifting his gaze from her body, he stripped out of his waistcoat and shirt. Glorious skin was revealed, a golden hue with a light dusting of hair. Muscled contours, dark nipples pulled tight, and a narrow waist. He unbuttoned his falls with quick motions.

He paused before he pushed them down, his gaze going to her face. “Have you ever seen a man before? Like this?”

She shook her head slowly.

“Would you… would you like to see?”

She nodded.

“Would you like to touch?”

Her gaze leaped to his face, but that didn’t stop her from nodding her yes.

He stepped back, breaking the connection of their gazes as he pushed off of the rest of his clothing. Pants, smalls, shoes, stockings—everything. Soon he stood before her as naked as she.

And now she got to see golden skin turned whiter around lean hips and a tight bum. She saw the corded knots of his thighs along with a thick scar down his left leg. She wanted to ask, but she hadn’t the breath. And besides, her gaze went to the thatch of wiry curls and the thick stalk of his cock.