To Protect An Heiress (Zebra Historical Romance)

by Adrienne Basso

  “You look beautiful, my lady,” Rose said with a trace of awe.

  Meredith smiled her thanks and glanced in the mirror above her dressing table. The pale blue silk nightgown was of simple design, low cut and sleeveless, with an open front guaranteed to tempt any warm blooded male to reach inside and explore. In a show of bravado, Meredith declined the matching robe, clearly shocking her maid.

  “I will see you in the morning, Rose.”

  “Late morning, I expect.” Rose giggled briefly at her own daring and hastily left the room.

  Meredith’s nerves kicked up again once she was alone. She glanced at the door along the far wall, the one that led to Trevor’s sitting room, but it remained shut tight. Sighing, she picked up her silver-handled brush, sat before the dressing table, and rhythmically stroked her hair.

  He arrived suddenly through the connecting door that linked their rooms. Though she had been expecting him, she nearly jumped when he appeared as a glimmer of movement in her mirror.

  “Should I have knocked?”

  “Of course not.” Rising from the padded seat, she turned to face him fully.

  He wore a brocade dressing gown of sapphire blue, loosely belted at the waist, that accented the width of his shoulders and the broadness of his chest. His feet were bare. She could not see much beyond his ankles, but surmised he wore nothing else beneath the garment. The flickering candlelight flattered his fair complexion and refined facial features.

  Meredith nearly sighed. He was such a compelling, handsome man. The intensity of his gaze made her heart begin to thud. Yet his face could have been carved from stone, for he showed not a hint of emotion.

  “Your maid?”

  “Rose has retired for the night.”

  “Good.” She felt his gaze travel over her, taking in every detail of her revealing attire. With effort, she was able not to flinch. “I assume you are a virgin?”

  There was a long pause as Meredith told herself not to be insulted or angered by the question. “Yes. Does that disappoint you?”

  His expression broke and he grimaced. Yet he did not answer her question but instead said, “Your mother is not here to offer you advice or address any of your concerns. Is there anything you would like to ask me?”

  Ask him? About what? Though she had vowed she would not, Meredith felt a blush creep into her cheeks as she finally caught his meaning.

  “My mother already explained . . . that is to say, I already know . . . I mean I am aware—”

  Abruptly she stopped, not believing how flustered she felt by this discussion. Taking a deep breath, Meredith tried again. “I am very aware of all aspects of marital relations. Physical relations. My mother has always felt it was most important that a woman not remain ignorant of such matters, so she took it upon herself to enlighten and explain everything to me when I reached my eighteenth birthday.”

  “Everything?” The notion seemed to amuse him. “Hmmm, now I am nervous.”

  Meredith felt herself relax. It was going to be all right. Trevor seemed to be in the grip of some strange emotion, but it no longer frightened or disturbed her.

  She lacked the nerve to suggest they move to the bed, so instead of speaking she acted. Rose, or some other servant, had drawn back the spread. Meredith could feel the coolness of the satin sheet against her bottom through her sheer nightgown as she sat in the middle of the bed.

  As she waited for him to follow, she admitted she was looking forward to this aspect of their relationship. He had already demonstrated his passion for her with his soul-melting kisses and languid caresses.

  She had always been curious about the physical side of the male/female relationship, but never more so since the marquess had kissed and caressed her. Even that first night in the garden she knew there was something different about him, different about them.

  The intimacy they were about to share would create a bond between them, a bond that would grow stronger as the days and weeks passed.

  Meredith was not a love-struck fool. She did not believe this would instantly solve all the obstacles they now faced. But it could be a start. A most important, pleasurable start.

  But still she waited. The marquess had not moved from his position. He seemed to be wrestling with some internal dilemma, some indecision. He turned and Meredith nearly cried out, for she thought he meant to leave.

  She quieted when she saw him unbelt his dressing gown, then inhaled slowly as he removed the robe. As she had thought, he was naked beneath and achingly beautiful. Hard, solid muscle, broad shoulders and chest, narrow waist, long, fit legs.

  The mattress shifted slightly as he sank down beside her. His nearness brought on a longing and hunger that started somewhere deep inside her. Never had she been so acutely aware of her body.

  “Are you still nervous?” Meredith asked with a small smile.

  “Terrified.” His expression was so serious it made her heart ache. Something was troubling him.

  Tenderly she raised her hand and laid it on his chest. “I promise I will not bite you, my lord.”

  “Regretfully, I cannot make the same vow, my lady.”

  Her fingers strayed to his hair, caressed the outline of his ear, then moved to the back of his neck. “I do not mind in the least,” she whispered in a sultry voice, pulling his neck forward.

  Arching against him, she drew him into a deep, warm kiss. He remained totally still for a moment. Then he ran his tongue along her lips. Eagerly Meredith parted them, and his tongue sank inside to tease and tangle with hers.

  It felt so good, warm and sensuous and wild. Their mouths fit perfectly. Trevor’s tongue began plunging slowly in and out, and Meredith became lost in the wonder of it as she tasted him fully.

  Trevor placed his hands on either side of her face and gently pulled back from the kiss, his mind in complete turmoil. She leaned forward, pressing every part of her scantily clad body against his. His arms encircled her and she settled herself beneath his chin, burrowing closer. Then Meredith lifted her lips and pressed them gently to the pulse that beat rapidly at the base of his throat.

  It was a gesture of trust and caring that rocked the marquess to the core of his being. His heart swelled with a deep, painful yearning he had previously associated exclusively with his relationship with Lavinia.

  The urge to protect and cherish grew strong, and he nearly laughed out loud of the absurdity of his predicament. For the one he needed to protect this delicate creature from was himself.

  He had bedded many women in the past eight years, more than he could count. More than he could remember. At first he had been mistaken in believing that his passion for Meredith was yet another of his typical reactions to a woman of such beauty, charm, and spirit.

  Now he knew better. He knew he was not prepared to be the type of husband she would demand. She had told him that before when she refused his proposal of marriage, but he had not heeded her warning.

  She would not allow herself to be ignored, though in the end it would be best for both of them. Was it fair or honorable to allow himself to feel only desire for her? Would that not make an already difficult situation nearly intolerable?

  Trevor lowered his chin until it rested on the top of her head and sighed. He felt a surge of guilt as his conscience warred with his sexual desire. Before entering her bedchamber tonight, he had resolutely put his attraction to his wife aside. That resolve had already been sorely tested when she looked at him with such open longing. And yet he had managed to control his urges, had managed to refrain from unleashing the pent-up passion that was tormenting him. Thus far.

  “Is anything wrong, my lord?”

  Her caring tone made him feel vulnerable, an emotion he despised.

  “Lie back on the bed, Meredith.”

  He felt her hesitation, her reluctance to leave the warmth of his arms, but she obeyed him without comment. Her breasts rose and fell with her harsh breaths, whether from excitement or fear he could not be certain.

  He clo
sed his eyes briefly and fought for mastery over himself, pushing aside all the wild, erotic things he wanted to do with her. He almost wished she was lying stiffly, fists clenched and eyes pinned to the ceiling, awaiting her fate with the martyred indignity of an aristocratic princess.

  Then he could lift the hem of her nightgown, move her thighs apart, and couple with her, swiftly and fiercely.

  But she was neither stoic nor shy, his exquisite bride. And she seemed incapable of keeping still. Her questing fingers searched through his chest hair and found his nipples. Using the flat of her fingertips, she gently circled the outer rim, then pulled on the puckering buds.

  “Our bodies are not completely so different, are they?” she said in wonderment.

  “You had best wait a few moments before making such rash statements,” he replied.

  Trevor lowered his head and nuzzled her neck and jaw. The sheer joy of discovery in her eyes was too much to endure. He felt his cock twitch, then harden further as she slid her hands along the side of his hips and down his thighs.

  He knew he should discourage her, but her touch felt so good, so right upon his burning flesh. Ever bold, she closed her wandering fingers around the base of his stiff erection and squeezed experimentally.

  Hot waves of hunger poured through his body. “You must remember, I am rather nervous,” he said hoarsely, as he reached down and pulled her hand away. “And shy of you.”

  “Shy?” Meredith laughed, throwing back her head and exposing the column of her long neck. “You do not feel shy, my lord.”

  He smiled, despite his determination not to enjoy himself. Her innocence and enthusiasm were beguiling. He dipped his mouth to her breasts, kissing her erect nipples through the silk sheerness of her nightgown. Meredith drew in a sharp breath and arched her back.

  Trevor moved his hand down below her waist, found the entrance to her body and circled it lightly with his finger. She made a small sound of pleasure deep in her throat and lifted her hips. The hot wetness at the juncture of her thighs let him know she would be able to accept his length with a minimum amount of pain.

  He gathered her close, shutting himself off to all emotions except the relentless drive of his passion. Somehow her nightgown had become tangled around her waist. There were no impediments as Trevor opened her legs with the thrust of his knee and placed himself between them.

  He entered her partway, then drove forward slowly. Meredith struggled, her legs shifting restlessly around him. He paused.

  “Does that hurt?”

  “It burns, stings.” She bit her lower lip, then tossed her head back and forth on the pillow. “Don’t stop. Full. I feel so full and stretched.”

  He rocked his hips forward and she whimpered. “Better?” he asked.

  “Hmmm.” Her face and neck were flushed, her eyes wild and wanton. He adjusted their bodies, trying to keep his strokes slow and shallow, but soon found himself pressing against the resistance of her maidenhead.

  “Try not to tense your muscles,” he whispered. He held her hips steady in his hands and thrust forward, piercing the membrane, penetrating her completely in one deep stroke.

  She cried out again, a mixture of shock and wonder. He expected her to stiffen and lie still or try to pull away from him. Instead she lifted herself up so she could press tender kisses to his cheek and jaw and throat.

  His senses exploded. No longer capable of thrusting into her with detached control, he gripped her hips hard, thumbs digging into the soft, tender flesh, and he pumped vigorously with almost mindless, insistent urgency.

  The pressure built to unbearable heights, and then Trevor felt the shudder begin, the blessed release. His entire body strained and convulsed as the climax overtook him, spilling his seed violently deep inside her tender flesh, nearly at the opening of her womb.

  He tried not to collapse on top of her, to spare her his crushing weight, but she hugged him so fiercely he fell forward. For a long moment he lay there, the sound of his ragged breathing echoing through the room.

  Gradually he came to his senses. Trevor raised his head slowly. A span of several heartbeats passed before he found the courage to gaze at the woman sprawled beneath him—his wife, now in body as well as name.

  A blush of color stained her pale cheeks and her eyes were half closed. He brushed the hair out of her face, wondering if she was still in pain, hoping he had not embarrassed or upset her too much.

  Her eyes fluttered open. “Is that it? Is it over?”

  “Yes.” He rolled off to the side. Her simple questions confirmed what he expected. What he intended, really. She had not reached climax.

  She was too inexperienced to realize it, of course. Proof of that came to him when she turned and snuggled close to him and sighed contentedly. He had brought her some measure of pleasure, some measure of enjoyment, but not the ultimate release, the ultimate intimacy.

  For he knew that by satisfying one need he would be creating another.

  “ ’Tis late,” he said softly. “I should leave you to your rest.”

  “No!” Her arms tightened around his neck. Then she lowered her head in embarrassment. “Please, stay a while longer.”

  His fingers trailed over her bare shoulder. Her skin was so soft and smooth, so daintily white and unblemished. Trevor ran his hands through the lengths of golden hair that hung down her back. He caught a whiff of the lust that hung heavy in the air and felt his body begin to stir. He should leave, before she managed to arouse him once more. Yet he made no move to abandon his pleasant bower, allowing her to intertwine her leg intimately with his.

  He felt her fingers twisting through the hair on his chest as he began to drift off to sleep. Unconsciously, his arms tightened around her. His eyelids closed as emotions and fatigue claimed him.

  Meredith watched him sleep. When the slow rise and fall of his chest became a steady rhythm, she propped her elbow at an angle and rested her head upon her hand to gain a better view.

  She gazed at him for a long time, like a love-struck fool, warning herself again and again not to wish for the stars or expect the impossible. The marquess was a difficult man to love, and the road she had chosen would not be an easy one to travel. Yet stubbornly she refused to give up hope.

  Coming to his father’s house had taken a toll on his emotions. Even in slumber his handsome face seemed drawn, flushed with weariness.

  Meredith leaned forward, dropped a quick kiss on his shoulder, then carefully slid from the bed. Her body ached in odd places and her inner thighs were sticky with his seed. She went to the washstand and poured a small amount of water into the porcelain bowl.

  Meredith soaked a linen cloth, then carefully cleansed herself. Her body still throbbed from his possession. Yet as she ran the cloth over her tender flesh, she could not dispel the restless feeling that there should have been more.

  There had been joy and wonder in their lovemaking, but there had also been an urgency, a frantic sense of reaching for something—something that was not there. Love? Meredith was unsure. It could hardly be necessary to be in love to achieve complete sexual fulfillment.

  Her dashing husband was the perfect illustration of that theory. He most definitely was not in love with her, yet he had experienced something far more earth-shattering than she. Perhaps only men so easily achieved this blissful state?

  Yet Meredith distinctly recalled that during that embarrassing and rather graphic conversation her mother had initiated about marital relations, there was mention of mutual pleasure and mutual enjoyment—passion so intimate it could make the body sing, surrender so complete one lost all sense of self-protection and simply gave and gave until they were free and satiated.

  That was the sort of physical intimacy Meredith was hoping to someday achieve with her husband. Given his rakish reputation and experience with the female sex, she suspected he knew precisely how that was accomplished. All she need do now was somehow convey her desire to him.

  With a philosophical frown, Meredith
returned to the bed. Trevor stirred, but did not awaken as she climbed in beside him. For a moment she was disappointed. If he woke up, they would be able to engage in more lovemaking, perhaps this time reaching the heights of that elusive shattering pleasure.

  Blushing at her wanton thoughts, Meredith laid back against her pillow. She turned and took up her favorite position, with her head resting comfortably against the solid muscle of Trevor’s chest. He shifted, then wrapped his arms securely around her. She smiled. A part of him must truly want her, even if the waking side of him had yet to realize it.

  All was quiet and still around them. Beneath her cheek Meredith could hear his heart beating. The comforting sound lulled her into a peaceful sleep.

  Meredith awoke alone. It was not a great surprise, but rather a big disappointment. Her mouth set in a thin line as she lay in the bedchamber flooded with morning sunshine, trying to decide if she should take breakfast in her bedchamber or brave the dining room.

  Eating in the dining room would increase the chances of seeing her husband. It would also increase the chances of seeing her new father-in-law.

  Deciding there was really no way to achieve one goal without facing the consequences of the other, Meredith rang for her maid. She did not linger over her morning toilet, but took care to select one of her more flattering gowns, a simple muslin creation of sapphire blue that set off her eyes.

  Once Rose had helped her dress, Meredith descended the stairs in search of breakfast and mentally prepared herself to tangle with the two new men in her life.

  As she expected, the duke was seated at the head of the breakfast table, coffee cup in hand, a newspaper spread across the table. There was no sign of the marquess.

  “I had not thought to see you this morning,” the duke exclaimed. “Or even for the rest of today.”

  Meredith took a much needed deep breath. “I was hungry and in need of a stroll. I hope you do not object if I join you.”

  She stood with her head high and waited for the footman to draw out the chair beside the duke. Her father-in-law seemed startled by her choice of seats and quickly scooped up the paper to make room for the plate of food another servant placed in front of Meredith.