I trembled with desire. The crush of my breasts to his chest was torture. I licked my lips as I drew back to admire his strong shoulders and the dusting of golden hair over his muscled chest. The hair darkened as it narrowed, pointing toward the waist of his breeches. When I trailed my fingers along that line, seeking out the buttons of his fall, he sucked in a breath. His abdomen tightened beneath my fingertips.
I worked his buttons free, one at a time. By the time I reached the last, he trembled. My head spun with the knowledge that I could make him quake with desire. I tugged down his breeches and hooked my fingers in the waistband of his drawers. In a slow slide, I revealed more of his skin as his hips arrowed in a V that led to his long, thick erection.
I’d never had cause to view a man unclothed before, but in a way, he was beautiful. His manhood jutted out, eager and proud. I touched it with light, reverent fingers.
He groaned. “You’re going to be the death of me.”
“Don’t you like this?”
He shut his eyes. He appeared in pain. I started to retract my hand, but he caught me and held me to him. His grip was firm and confident.
When he met my gaze again, the lust in his expression made me squirm.
“I like it very much. You’re a tease.”
I grinned. “Maybe I want to tease you.”
He stepped off of the bed to strip his clothes and boots off. I used the opportunity to wriggle free of my dress, bunched around my waist. He never took his eyes off me. When the bodice of my dress caught snug around my hips, I decided to pull it off over my head instead.
The bed dipped on its ropes as he rejoined me. As my head emerged from my dress, he tangled his hand in the delicate fabric, trapping my arms over my head. With his other hand, he carefully extracted the strands of my hair caught in the buttons. He stroked my cheek with the back of his fingers, smiling.
“If you enjoy teasing so much, maybe I should do it to you.”
He trailed his fingers down my neck to trace my collarbone. Goose bumps surged at his light, tantalizing touch. When he continued down to the swell of my breasts, I arched into his hand.
He chuckled. “Don’t like it, do you?”
“I do.” Frankly, I was surprised I was able to force out those two words. My breath seemed to have fled. “I want more.”
“Like this?” He dipped his head to trace my areola with his tongue.
A moan built in my throat at the potent sensation. I bit my lip to stifle it. “More.”
“This?” He took my nipple into his mouth with a hard suck.
I arched off the bed. “Warren!”
His chuckle vibrated through me, adding to the pleasure. When he raised his head, his gaze turned wicked. “If you aren’t quiet, you’ll call the entire house down on us.”
Heat mantled my cheeks. I turned my face away. He leaned close to me, brushing his lips over my color-stained skin. He whispered in my ear, “I wouldn’t mind shouting our forthcoming marriage from the rooftops, but I’d prefer no one interrupted us just yet.”
The gentle look in his eye mitigated my embarrassment. “I’d rather no one interrupted at all. I’ll be quieter.”
His gaze twinkled. “I make no promises.”
His expression turned predatory as he released his hand from the wadded dress. He stripped it the rest of the way from my skin and let it crumple to the floor. The moment my arms were free, I reveled in the ability to touch him. I ran my hands over his shoulders, down his arms and back. I pressed him to me as he reclaimed my mouth. His heat soaked into me. I lifted one of my legs and curled it over his hip.
His hand burned me, making me squirm and arch against him as he ran it down my side to my thigh. He plucked at the tie on my stocking. His thick erection brushed against the curls at the apex of my thighs as he ground into me. The tip teased my abdomen. I reached between us, stroking his velvet skin. He paused, in the process of rolling down the thin silk covering my leg, as he groaned. The throb between my legs mounted.
“Forget the stocking.” My breath came in pants.
He abandoned the fabric to slide his hand up my body to cradle the side of my face. He kissed me with a franticness I matched.
Sliding his free hand between us over my hand, he used my grip to guide his erection between my legs. The crown brushed through my folds as he positioned himself at my entrance. He lifted his head, locking his gaze with mine as he slid into my channel.
The friction was like nothing I’d ever felt before. It compared to the stroke of his fingers only in a pale, echo-like way. His erection stretched me as he invaded me. At that moment, with my body conforming to fit his, I felt as though we’d been made to do this. My love for him swelled, stealing my breath. He threaded his fingers through mine and guided my hand away to sheathe himself completely.
It hurt a bit, but he moved slowly. The thrust and retreat soon made me squirm with anticipation. I lifted my hips to meet his. I hooked my ankles in the small of his back. The muscles of his rear flexed beneath my calf.
He kissed me as he quickened the pace. With his body over mine, every thrust scraped my aching nipples across the wiry mat of his chest hair. I trembled. I clutched his hand. He broke the kiss, murmuring encouragements and groans over my lips.
Passion overwhelmed me, mounting with every stroke. I met it blindly, searching for the magic he’d wrought with me in a different bed. This time, there was nothing to keep us apart. I climbed higher and higher, my body tightening around his as I searched for that elusive pinnacle. When he dipped his head to run his tongue over my nipple, I found it. With violent spasms, I convulsed around him. I bit my lip to hold back my groans. He followed me into bliss, burying himself deep as his erection twitched.
The euphoria lingered. I made a noise of protest as Warren pulled away from me, but he collapsed beside me instead. He drew me closer to lie across him. My cheek rested against his chest, his strong heartbeat pounding in my ears.
“So that’s what making love is like.” My voice was drowsy. I shut my eyes, soaking in the peaceful moment.
Warren interrupted it by laughing. “Yes, my dear. Making love.”
He spoke the words as though he’d never said them aloud before, never contemplated the meaning. He traced circles over my back.
“I do love you.”
I turned my face to press my lips against his skin. I was too lazy to move further. “I love you, too.”
We snuggled closer. Slowly, his breathing and heartbeat slowed. It lulled me toward a blissful sleep rivaled only by the pleasure of being awake in his arms.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Papa pounded at the door, rousing me. “Get up this instant, young lady. We let you mope yesterday, but you will not ruin this day. Let your mother and sister into your room to help you dress.”
Mope? I bit my lip to stifle a laugh. Warren had dawdled in my room so long yesterday morning, it had been a miracle that he hadn’t been caught.
I grinned from ear to ear as I rose from the bed. It was Monday. I would get married today.
When Papa banged on the door again, this time threatening to break it, I called, “I’m awake. I’ll be there in a moment.”
I pulled on my wrapper and crossed to the door with a skip in my step. I was still a bit sore between the legs, but the ache only reminded me of the good things to come tonight when Warren and I were reunited. When I turned the key to unlock the door, Papa opened it immediately.
His eyes were livid and bloodshot. It lent him an almost sinister air as he wagged his finger in front of my face. “You will get married today,” he said to me.
“Yes.”
The word stunned him into silence.
I wiped my sleep-crusted eyes. “Send Mama and Daisy in,” I said, stifling a yawn. “And Emily, too.”
Emily came first, armed to the teeth with a tray bearing tea and biscuits. She set it down on the vanity and pointed me to the chair. “Sit,” she said. “I’ll start on your hair while you eat.
”
My appetite shriveled to the size of a raisin in the face of my excitement, but I sat nevertheless.
She hummed under her breath, a soothing melody, as she brushed my hair until it gleamed. Then she held up the strands and sighed.
“I wish you had a bit of curl to it,” she lamented. “You should have let me in last night to set your hair in curlers.”
I’d been hoping Warren would present himself again come nightfall, though he hadn’t. Oh well. What did it matter if I wasn’t the most fashionable bride? By Warren’s own pronouncement, he loved me no matter how I looked.
I sipped my tea as Emily wove small, painstaking braids into my hair, coiling each one to form a loop and pinning it to my head. It added the illusion of curls. She swore under her breath as she had to start and stop multiple times. I didn’t interrupt her concentration. When she finally finished, she had woven what appeared to be a crown of hair around my head, with the small braids forming loops and whirls to add volume. She stood back with satisfaction.
“Now your dress,” she said.
I hadn’t had time to prepare, hadn’t been fitted for any new dresses since the start of the season. Emily murmured under her breath as she searched through my wardrobe for something suitable. She drew out the silvery confection, the evening dress I had worn not too long ago at Lady Dunlop’s house party. It seemed like the best choice. I nodded.
Emily helped me out of my wrapper and nightgown, very careful to leave my hair undisturbed. Once I was completely naked, she sponged me down with a basin of sweet-smelling water. It smelled like roses. I breathed in the scent, letting it soothe me.
She garbed me in my thinnest chemise despite the cool weather, a soft lawn that clung to my skin. Under that, I donned a sheer set of silk stockings and a pair of drawers. Finally, she eased me into the gown.
As she did up the buttons, Mama and Daisy came in, both grinning from ear to ear. Mama clutched her hands to her chest. “My last baby will be married. My last one.” I made a face but suffered her ministrations as she turned me, examining me from all angles.
Tears gathered in her eyes. “I can’t believe I won’t have my babies with me anymore.”
I steeled myself as Mama burst into wrenching sobs. You’d think we were on our way to my funeral, not my wedding.
Emily tucked her arm around Mama. “Miss Rose will visit, I’m sure,” Emily cooed. She steered Mama toward the door. “Why don’t you come down to the kitchen with me and we’ll have a cup of tea. The soothing blend you drink when your nerves get the better of you.”
To my surprise, Mama let Emily steer her away.
That left me alone with Daisy. I braced myself, fearing she would poison the day with as much anger and vitriol as I had her happy news. Instead, mustering a watery smile, she held up her hands, filled with bunches of early spring flowers—spriggly yellow-green Lady’s Mantle and pale violet windflowers.
“I picked these for you,” she said, her voice soft. “Can I weave them into your hair?”
We did the same thing for Lavender and Violet’s weddings. I nodded, seating myself at the vanity. Daisy added the flowers one by one into my hair. She didn’t say a word. The tension yawned between us.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, shattering the silence.
She stilled her hands for a moment then resumed her work without a word.
I twisted to look her in the eyes. “I should have celebrated your happy news, not tried to diminish it.”
She shrugged her shoulders, not quite looking me in the eye. “I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have left without leaving a note. I should have realized you’d be worried.”
Silence resumed, but it was more companionable this time.
“I wish I’d been there for you, to do this for your wedding.”
She pressed her lips together. “It happened rather suddenly.”
“Why couldn’t you wait for the banns to be read?” I winced the moment the words left my mouth.
A couple weeks ago, Daisy would have railed at such an attack on her judgment, even if it wasn’t malignantly meant. Today, she smiled. Was Arthur the reason for her change in temper? Perhaps he mellowed her.
“I’m in love, Rose. At the time, I didn’t want to wait. I don’t regret going, though I should have thought to leave a note.”
I raised my hand to bracket hers, holding her steady against my shoulder. “I love you, Daisy. I’m glad you’ve found happiness.”
Tears gathered in her eyes, but she blinked them away. “I’m sure you will, too,” she said with a broad smile.
I matched her smile with one of my own. “I already have.”
The moment Daisy placed the last flower, I rose and let her lead me to the staircase. The priest, my family, and Warren’s waited in the front parlor, the biggest.
I descended the stairs with care. This was the last time I would traverse them as an unmarried lady. Emily rejoined us and trailed after me, unshed tears in her eyes. I’d take her with me when I left this household, of course, but she must be just as anxious as I for the day to go well.
Outside the parlor door, I paused. Warren stood at the mantle beside Papa and the priest, dressed in a flattering blue coat with gold buttons. Mama sat next to Lady Hartfell, clutching the small, wizened woman’s hand as she sobbed into a handkerchief. The wide windows showed that instead of a carriage waiting out front, there were two horses, a piebald and a roan.
“Where’s the carriage?” I asked. Catching his gaze, I silently tried to impress on him my true concern. You do intend to take me from this house, don’t you?
He grinned as he crossed to me. “Trapped in a carriage for the duration of our travels? You’d be driven mad.”
Heat bloomed in my cheeks as I admitted, “I would. But I can’t ride astride—”
He arched an eyebrow. “Why not? We’ll be married. You’ll have no suitors to chase away with your wild behavior.” His eyes twinkled to match his smile.
Was he endorsing my wildness?
He leaned closer to whisper, “I love you, Rose, not the woman you project to polite society. You can be as wild as you want with me.” Wicked intentions glinted in his gaze. “You know I like it.”
I wouldn’t have been able to hide my smile if my life had depended on it. Finally, I could be myself, without fear of reprimand. “I love you, too.”
He caught my hand and pressed a kiss to my knuckles. “Are you ready to begin our life together?”
My breath caught. “You know I am.”
“Good.” A smile ghosted across his lips. “Without you, I’d be the most wretched soul on this planet.”
He leaned down to press his mouth to mine. Clutching him, I returned the kiss with a fervor that he matched without hesitation, an omen of all our days still to come.
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Acknowledgments
No book is brought into creation alone. I’d like to thank the team at Entangled Publishing, including but not limited to: Alethea Spiridon, Holly Bryant-Simpson, Heidi Stryker, Anita Orr, and Liz Pelletier. Without you, this book would never have been written, let alone polished with such panache.
Thank you to my #FebWritingChallenge family for all the encouragement and support while I was writing and editing this book.
I can’t say thank you enough to Krys Branchaud and Kim Malboeuf for putting up with my endless moaning and groaning, enduring my chatter about my wacky characters, and helping me to bounce ideas when I got stuck. You’re the best!
Last but certainly not least, a huge thank you to Mom, Dad, and my sister Sam for always supporting and believing in me, cheering me up when I got discouraged, and looking after my lovable mutt when I spent too much time at the desk. Without you, I wouldn’t be where I am today (which, right now, is over the moon!).
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How to Play the Game of Love (Ladies of Passion) Page 27