The ceremony seemed to pass quickly. Amanda felt as though she and Joseph were locked together in a single moment of time while the rest of the world spun around them in a blur of motion. Before she had time to fully grasp what was happening, there was a cool circle of gold around her ring finger and she was signing her name in a large book.
Lady Amanda Garvey, Marchioness of Ethelred.
The wedding breakfast, by contrast, felt interminably long. Amanda was beside herself with joy, of course, at being reunited with old friends from Dublin and new friends from London. But, more than anything, she wanted to be alone with Joseph. Alone with her husband. He grasped her hand on the table and squeezed it. He seemed to be thinking the very same thing.
They had the wedding breakfast in the large room where the portrait of her mother was hung, and Amanda felt a great sense of destiny. A sense that things had happened exactly as they had meant to happen. She felt certain of her parents' blessing from heaven and knew in her heart that, no matter what life would throw at her from that day forward, she would meet it with courage and grace. With Joseph by her side, she felt that nothing was impossible.
The festivities continued into the ballroom, where there was music and dancing and much laughter.
The day grew long, and Amanda felt herself growing tired. She had eaten more delicious food than she had in a very long time, and her head was swimming slightly with wine, which she was not accustomed to drinking. She glanced at her husband and he understood her without needing to say a thing. It was time, now, for them to leave. Politely, he excused them from the group and, together, they slipped silently out of the room.
Everyone was gathered in the ballroom, and the rest of the house was silent. As they walked, hand in hand, to the master bedroom, the muffled sounds of people talking and music drained away.
Epilogue
Leading up to the wedding day, Joseph had been completely absorbed in the moment and in Amanda. But as he had stood at the altar, in the very church where he had married his first wife, the memories of her had come flooding back.
He was happy. Of course, he was. He had not been so happy in many years. And when he had first seen Amanda in her wedding gown, that flush of joy across her cheeks, he had never been more confident that marrying her was the right choice.
But throughout the day, he kept having these flashbacks to moments at his first wedding. Sadness mixed with happiness to wrap him in a bittersweet glow. He clutched Amanda’s hand, holding on to her as if he was afraid of being pulled back into the past.
Always, she would look at him and smile, and he would know that everything would be all right. He would never forget his first wife; her memory would live on in his heart and in their daughter. But this new life he had been given with Amanda was a gift, and he would not squander a single day more in stagnation and grief.
It's what Teresa would have wanted.
As the day grew long, he could see Amanda becoming tired. He chewed on his lip, anticipating the night that was rapidly approaching them. The night they had been impatiently awaiting for weeks.
His stomach turned over in a quick succession of flips. Despite how many times he had brought Amanda to climax through the use of his fingers or his mouth during their engagement, they had managed to remain steadfast in the decision to save her proper deflowering for their wedding night.
It was all semantics by then, of course. What they had done together in the dark nights waiting for their wedding surely far surpassed the bounds of propriety. But now, as he dragged his fingertips over the back of her hand in the ballroom, he was glad he had saved this, at least, for tonight.
She looked at him, and the weariness around her eyes mixed and melded with a simmering heat in her gaze. It was time. It was easy enough to slip her out of the ballroom without drawing too much notice. The wine was flowing freely by that point and the party could carry on just fine without them.
The corridor was quiet, and their footsteps provided the only sound to mask the pounding of his heart as they walked to the new master bedroom. The room was warm and dimly lit by a fire in the fireplace and several candelabras. Old furnishings were arranged in new ways, making the space feel completely fresh. A blank slate. A place to begin their life together. She nestled against him, nuzzling his chest and wrapping her arms around his neck.
“Oh, I’m so sleepy. What a day,” she murmured.
He chuckled quietly, wrapping his arms languorously around her waist. Slowly, they swayed back and forth for a moment. He thought back to this time last year. Before he had met Amanda. He had been so cold then, so closed off to life. He had been fully absorbed in Heather, not allowing any other source of light or joy into his life. It was almost as though feeling joy made him feel guilty.
Amanda had shattered all that. She had barged into his life and into his heart, throwing all the shutters open and letting in the sunlight. His life felt so much bigger now. So much fuller. And now, with his wife in his arms, he felt as though he was waking up from a long, dreamless sleep.
He let his eyes fall closed and slowed his breath, letting the rest of the world fall away. “Not too tired, I hope?” he asked.
Amanda looked up at him and quirked an eyebrow.
Joseph smiled and, in a swift movement, he lifted her off her feet and carried her to the bed. He dropped her onto it, making her laugh as her dress and the blankets pooled around her. Her dress fell above her knees and her stockings begged to be removed…slowly.
He untied the ribbon garters above her knees and rolled the stockings down her shapely legs, kissing each inch of skin as it was exposed. With the stockings removed, he worked his way up her thighs, pushing her knees apart. Her breath went still and quiet as she anticipated his next move. He had grown quite skilled at this, learning from her gasps and murmurs just what she liked best.
He drew his tongue up the cleft of her sex, parting her expertly as she sighed and wriggled beneath him. He teased her with his tongue for only a short while before replacing his mouth with his hand and came up to kiss her neck as he drew tight circles with his fingers.
This time, he pressed two fingers slowly inside of her, his manhood going rigid at the tight heat as he imagined those damp walls clenching around him. She was holding her breath.
“Does this hurt?” he whispered against her ear.
“Not much,” she said, though her altered breathing suggested that she was bracing for pain.
“Are you afraid?” he asked.
She shook her head and looked at him, her eyes alight with desire. “No. I’m not afraid. I want you inside me. Now.”
Joseph chuckled. He had imagined that he would be settling in for a long evening of making sure she was well prepared and comfortable before the act took place, but it seemed that weeks of anticipation had already done that work for him.
“As you wish, my love,” he said.
She was quick to help him remove his clothes. She added a passing remark about the color of his jacket. That had seemed important that morning, but now he tossed the navy blue jacket in a heap on the floor as if it were the least meaningful thing in the world.
Her hand wrapped around his erection with some familiarity now. There was no need for her to prepare him; he was already as eager and raring to go as it was possible for a man to be. Regardless, she lowered herself down and wrapped her lips around his head, gazing up at him as she took it into her mouth just because she knew the sight of it drove him wild.
For an instant, he recalled the first night she had spent in this house, how the lines of her body beneath her coarse gray dress had so aroused him and how he had imagined this very image in his mind.
* * *
Amanda loved that slightly dazed look that he got when she used her mouth to pleasure him. His chest rose and fell in quick, shallow breaths and his lips parted. She still was not confident in her abilities in this area, but he seemed to appreciate her enthusiastic efforts.
But this time, he did no
t allow her to keep going. Although the sight of his seed arcing through the air was the most erotic thing she ever expected to see, she was not disappointed when he lifted her up and laid her back against the pillows.
He took his time removing her gown, his fingers trailing over the intricate beadwork, and then gently laying the gown over the foot of the bed.
She let her legs fall open comfortably, wrapping them around him when he settled between her thighs.
“If you need me to stop, just say so. There’s no rush,” he whispered tenderly.
She nodded, though she very much doubted that she would need him to. She had little fear of the purported pain of the wedding night. Her life had not been easy, and compared to the many trials she had been through, a slight twinge of pain in payment for a far greater pleasure was a small price to pay.
When he slid inside of her, her hands gripped his shoulders and she closed her eyes, grinding her teeth together as the sensation of such intimate muscles being stretched. She had expected ripping, a tearing feeling and blood, but it was nothing like that. It was gentler. A pressure and an intense tightness, but it was not exactly pain. She welcomed the intensity, breathing slowly.
When his hips met hers and he was fully buried inside of her, he groaned and hung his head down by her shoulder. Amanda took this chance to catch her breath and wriggle her hips slightly, getting used to the feeling.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“I’m fine,” she said with a slight chuckle. “Just go slowly at first. If you can.”
He heeded her request and when he began to move, his hips rolled in a slow, fluid motion. He moved carefully, his gaze soft and caring as he brushed her hair off of her forehead. Each time his hips met hers, his pelvis bumped pleasurably against that bundle of nerves that he had grown so familiar with in the past weeks. She arched her back slightly to increase this stimulation and he seemed to take that as license to move with more forceful thrusts.
She found that the pain melted away quite effortlessly and she began to meet his thrusts. He filled her in every sense of the word. She saw only him. The scent of his skin surrounded her. The only sound she could hear was her own pleasured sighs and his low groans in her ear. He was the whole world to her at that moment, and she surrendered completely, letting her body be controlled and mastered by him. He seemed to know just how to touch her, just what to whisper in her ear, just how to kiss her earlobe in order to bring the sensations of his now feverish lovemaking to a crisis point.
He had seemed to forget to be careful with her then, but she was beyond the point of pain. He thrust into her deeply, grasping her hip and holding her in place as he took her.
When she reached her climax, she clung to his broad, muscular shoulders and cried out. He had brought her to the point before, but this was the first time she had experienced the counter pressure of having his hard length inside of her as her muscles clenched around him. It was a delicious sensation, and the moans that ripped from her, though, sounded like no sound she'd ever made before. She scraped her nails down his back, savoring the waves of pleasure he brought her.
It wasn't long before he followed after her. He groaned in her ear, and his thrusts became harder and more erratic. She could feel the moment it happened, the heat of his seed spilling into her. She thought about how conceiving a child on her wedding night would be the perfect end to a perfect day. When he collapsed on top of her she wrapped her arms around him, chuckling gently and feeling rather giddy. Exhaustion and sweet, luxurious satisfaction wrapped her in a pleasantly light-headed haze.
He smiled against the skin of her neck, then rose his head up to kiss her lips.
“Did I hurt you?” he asked.
She shook her head. “No. I feel amazing,” she grinned. “Perfectly amazing.”
He rolled onto his side and she nestled against him, pressing against his soft, warm skin. She kissed his chest, trailing her fingers through the fine, dark hair. Letting her gaze linger over the slopes and hollows of his muscles, she smiled.
“What?” he asked in a whisper, entwining a lock of her hair around his finger.
“I have a beautiful husband,” she said, grinning up at him.
He laughed, tilting her chin up to kiss her. His lips lingered on hers and he seemed to be drinking her in.
The new bed in the master bedroom was so soft and smelled faintly of the lavender soap used to wash the linens. She listened to Joseph’s breathing as he drifted off to sleep, watching his chest rise and fall in a deep, slow rhythm. She resisted falling asleep, despite how tired she was. She hated to put an end to the best day of her life.
She stared at the hollow of his neck, resisting the sleep that was already pulling her into a dream. She fought it. But then, she slipped, stumbling lightly into a deep slumber wrapped in the warm limbs of her husband.
The End?
Extended Epilogue
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Preview: Courteously Seduced by an Enigmatic Duke
Chapter 1
The paper between his fingers crumpled slightly, Rowland’s mind drifting to places it hadn’t been in a long while. The words blurred on the pages, the very same words he had read over and over again for the past few minutes. He didn’t know how long it had been since he had sat down in his study—an hour, merely a few minutes? Lost in the recesses of his mind, time held little meaning.
Which was an odd thought, seeing that time was one of the things most prominent on his mind. How long had it been since he’d last thought of the Duke of Gresham? Was it ten years now? His brows rose on their own accord as the memory drifted into the forefront of his mind. It had been ten years now.
Ever since the Duke of Gresham fell ill from poison, Rowland had found himself in the very same position he was in now—wondering if he would have to step up as the heir to the Dukedom. Back then, the Duke hadn’t brought forth an heir for himself, and as the Duke’s cousin, Rowland was the closest to inheriting the title. The notion had been objectionable then as it was now but had ended well—with the Duke’s attempted murderer hanged and the co-conspiring Duchess taking her own life, there was no longer a threat to the Duke’s life.
And ten years had gone by since then. More than enough time for the Duke to produce his own heir.
So, what the blazes is this?
Rowland looked down at the paper once again, reading it quickly though the words had already been committed to his memory. The words hadn’t changed. It was the Duke again, urging him to come to Gresham Manor to grow into his role as heir, and one day as Duke.
How tiresome.
With a sigh, Rowland put the letter aside. Becoming a Duke was the last thing he wanted. He rose, taking the glass of brandy he had poured before reading the letter. He wandered over to the window that looked out onto the vast land in his possession. Just staring at the lush green grass filled him with pride, sheep dotted across the expanse. A simple sight but one that filled him with riches, one that put many people under his employment, people he was responsible for; one that had been borne from hard work. Life in Australia was life he was used to, one that was nothing like the one he heard about in England. It was a life that knew the meaning of reaping what he sowed. He studied, he learned first-hand, he worked.
It mattered not that he was the son of colonists, his last name known amongst the richest of them. Rowland Albertson was known to follow that generation, but his ranch had also given him his identity.
Now, he would have to toss it all aside to become the Duke of Gresham.
Rowland didn’t know much about England. Though he had been bor
n there, he came to Australia when he was still but a babe. He hadn’t grown up in that society, but through books, he had learned quite a lot. English society was quite unlike the one he had grown up in. There was a reliance on titles and nobility, where one earned their riches through the passing of those titles. Hard work rarely paid off under such circumstances.
Will I survive?
The knock on his door brought him out of his thoughts for a few seconds. “Enter,” he said, then his mind drifted again.
The door made no sound and he heard no footsteps, but he could sense whoever it was drawing closer. He didn’t bother to turn around. Rowland continued to stare out the window, at the land he could see. There were more acres stretched ahead, just beyond the horizon. “You have another letter, Sire.”
Seducing The Perfectly Enchanting Marquess (Steamy Historical Regency Romance) Page 27