Daisy flushed with pleasure at what she recognized as a compliment. But she also knew that Nicholas wasn’t in possession of all the facts. Now was the time to confess her lack of ability in bed, her undesirability as a bed partner. She might as well. He was going to find out for himself very shortly.
“I couldn’t please him,” she confessed in a rush. “Tony found me lacking in … lacking,” she said, unable to be more specific than that.
“Surely not lacking here,” Nicholas said as he brushed a hand across her breast. The tip pebbled before his hand had left her. “Or here,” he said, briefly touching her lips with his. “Or here,” he said, sliding his hand down to her belly and below.
Daisy trembled. “I don’t know exactly …”
“He could have taught you what he wanted,” Nicholas said, his eyes holding hers, forcing her to meet his gaze and promising her that he would remedy the situation.
“Nicholas. I’m … scared.” The last word came out as a whisper.
“Of what?” he said. “I won’t bite. Too hard,” he corrected with a teasing smile.
“That I won’t please you.”
His hands found her waist and tightened there, his thumbs sliding low to caress her hipbones. “You already please me,” he said. “Everything about you pleases me.”
“But you can’t know—”
“Trust me.”
They were strange words for him to utter. Especially when he knew so much more about betrayal. But he gave her no chance to worry further about whether she would please him. He could tell she had worried long enough. He would prove to her that she was exactly what he wanted and needed in a woman.
He set out to seduce her, as she had unconsciously seduced him in the gallery of Severn Manor. He kissed and caressed, seeking the spots that would arouse her ardor, until he knew she was caught up in a sensual maelstrom. He felt too impatient to bother with the thousands of buttons on her dress, but as his hands closed around the material to tear it away, he remembered his fantasy in the carriage.
His hands loosened, and he turned her around so her back was facing him. One at a time, he released the buttons, each time pressing a hot kiss to her flesh. Sometimes his tongue caressed her. Sometimes it was his teeth that grazed her satiny skin. His lips wandered, seeking pleasure and giving it. He had never become so aroused merely kissing a woman, but he forced himself to finish what he had started, down to the very last button, which revealed the two small dimples above her buttocks.
Daisy moaned. “What are you doing to me, Nicholas?”
“Loving you.” He slowly shoved the dress down her arms and brushed away her tangled copper curls to press one last kiss to her nape.
An animalistic, guttural sound forced its way out of Daisy’s throat.
She wondered how two men could be so very different. Tony had never cherished her as Nicholas just had. He had never kissed her flesh as though it had the taste of ripe strawberries. He had never wanted her so badly he was trembling, as Nicholas was now.
Daisy no longer doubted her ability to please Nicholas. Nor did she doubt her own ability to respond to him. She was willing to bear all the pain she knew would come when he left her in exchange for the passion he offered to share with her. It wasn’t love. But it was something equally intimate—the joining of two people in the most primal manner possible.
Nicholas was less patient with Daisy’s corset. He hated the thing, and it bothered him not at all when the ties snapped in surrender to his strength.
Nicholas was unprepared when Daisy stayed his hands on her clothing while she began to undress him. He was staggered when she performed the same ritual on his shirt that he had performed with her dress. His body was quivering by the time she reached his navel.
Daisy relished the chance to taste Nicholas, to feel the crisp hair on his chest. To watch his flat nipples peak as her tongue rasped over them. To watch his belly contract as her teeth slid over his skin. She reveled in the smell of him, the texture and taste of him.
His cousin was a fool, Nicholas thought. He had known from the first moment he saw Daisy that she was a sensual creature. He had wanted her fire, wanted to sink himself into her and be burned up in the conflagration. Her skin was smooth, her hair silky. He couldn’t touch enough, couldn’t get his fill. He curled his fingers in her hair and pulled her close for a searing kiss.
Then she was touching him, pressing against him. And he burned.
Daisy had never known what it was to want a man this way. Had never known she could be so demanding as a lover. But when she laid both her hands on Nicholas’s bare chest she felt a shudder go through him, and she experienced a sense of feminine power such as she had never imagined. She wanted to touch him, to taste him. Her hand slid down, oh, so slowly, to cover the bulge in his trousers.
Nicholas groaned. “What are you doing to me, Daisy?”
She froze. “You don’t like it?”
She started to remove her hand, but he caught it and held it against him. His lazy-lidded eyes sought hers. “It feels good. Damn good. Don’t stop, Daisy.”
She was more hesitant as she continued her exploration across his flanks to his hard buttocks. She soon forgot to be careful. It was fascinating to watch muscle and sinew tense beneath her touch. The rough sounds Nicholas made in his throat caused a corresponding excitement deep within her.
His hands weren’t still, either. Daisy felt herself undulate beneath his caresses. It wasn’t until she felt his hand on her belly that she realized she was naked.
So was he.
Astonished, she glanced up into his eyes, down at his evident arousal, then back up into his eyes, which by then were alive with laughter.
“Don’t tell me you haven’t seen anything like it before, because I won’t believe you.”
“But I haven’t!” Daisy blurted. “I mean, it was always dark, and we were under the covers and—” Daisy hid her face against Nicholas’s chest to keep from blurting anything more.
“A fool and an idiot,” Nicholas muttered.
His arms closed around Daisy, and he held her close. He could feel her nipples harden against his chest. The copper curls between her legs teased his shaft, causing it to throb. He clenched his jaws and forced himself to patience. If he did what he wanted he would terrify her. He had asked for her trust, and he intended to earn it.
His hands roamed her back from her shoulders all the way to the dimples above her buttocks. He wanted to grasp her and pull her close, but he resisted the urge. Barely.
The room filled with shadows as the sun began to set.
“Daisy,” he murmured against her ear.
“What, Nicholas?”
“I think it’s time to go to bed.”
Her fingernails cut into his shoulders. The fear—more of inadequacy now than of him—was back. Kissing was all well and good, but she had been dry when Tony thrust into her body, and it had hurt terribly. She couldn’t be sure the same thing wouldn’t happen with Nicholas. “I’m afraid,” she whispered.
“I know. I’ll take care of you,” he said. “I promise.”
To his surprise, the tension slipped away, and she became pliant in his arms. Her body melted against his, and he felt his pulse begin to race.
He kissed her eyes closed, then kissed each cheek and finally found her mouth with his. It was a questing kiss, seeking permission to enter. She parted her lips and sighed a welcome. His tongue probed, then stroked her mouth, blatantly mimicking the sexual act.
She moaned, and her hips arched against him. Nicholas felt the blood race to his groin but held himself still, letting her thrust against him until he couldn’t stand the pleasure any more. He slipped a leg between her thighs and lifted her onto it.
She gasped and leaned farther into him, pressing her breasts against his chest.
Daisy was lost in a euphoria of pleasure. The fear was still there, but buried by layers of want and need and desire. She gave herself up to Nicholas, body and soul, gave h
im the trust he had asked for, even though she knew he would never give it in return.
She felt a moment of panic when he lifted her and carried her to the bed, but he never gave her a chance to run. One quick thrust and he was inside her.
He paused then.
Daisy kept her eyes closed, afraid Nicholas would see the surprise—and elation—she felt. It hadn’t hurt at all. His entry had been slick and smooth. She wanted to shout hosanna. But then she might have to let Nicholas in on her secret.
She should have known he wouldn’t let her hide from him.
“Daisy. Open your eyes.”
She did, just enough to see him in the twilight. “It isn’t at all like I thought it would be.” She arched her body experimentally under his, and he bit back a groan. Daisy wiggled her fanny, and Nicholas pressed her flat with his hips.
“If you don’t stay still this is going to be over before it’s gotten started,” he growled.
“No, it’s not like I expected at all,” she confessed, her fingers walking up his chest to slide confidently into his hair.
Nicholas’s grin was slow in coming, but it spread until it reached his eyes. “Oh? What did you expect? Gunfire and Indian drums?”
Daisy smiled, a lazy curl of her lips. “I would have liked that, I think.”
He laughed. “No you wouldn’t,” he assured her. “Too noisy. I wouldn’t be able to hear those little purring kitten sounds you make in your throat when I touch you,” he said as he began to move slowly in and out of her. “I wouldn’t be able to hear you moan,” he said as his hands cupped her breasts. “And I wouldn’t be able to hear your cry of satisfaction when you reach the pinnacle of desire.”
“I would never … I don’t …”
“You do,” he assured her. And proved his point by taking her nipple in his mouth to suckle and drawing from her a low, gasping groan.
Daisy had never been so conscious of the sounds that came from her throat. But she couldn’t stop them. The gasps. The moans. The groans. And the cry of pleasure he had promised when he arched above her, his body racked with pleasure as he spilled his seed.
Their bodies were slick, their breathing labored as he slid off her. He pulled her into his arms with her buttocks spooned into his groin and slipped a leg over her. Then he fell asleep.
Daisy felt the tears sting her nose and swallowed back the sob of joy that threatened to break free. She had never been so happy. Or so downright miserable. She had finally found a man who made her body sing for him and whom she knew she had pleased, as well. It was wonderful to lie entwined with him, to know they would awaken together in the morning.
That was the good part.
The bad part was, all this was entirely temporary. When Nicholas left England she would have years and years to lie in bed alone and remember this night.
Nicholas’s hand tightened possessively around her waist.
Daisy closed her eyes and bit her lip. It was better not to think about the future. Better simply to enjoy the moment while she could.
She drifted off, expecting to sleep until morning. It was still dark when she heard a match strike, smelled sulfur, and blinked her eyes against the yellow glow of the kerosene lamp beside the bed. Daisy had the fleeting thought that Priss would have loved the ornate lamp. The white globe was circled by at least four inches of red fringe.
“Nicholas? What are you doing up? It’s the middle of the night.”
Nicholas debated whether to tell her the truth. He had been dreaming, of course. And the dream had woken him, as it always did. Fortunately, Daisy had slept through his restlessness before he awoke. Nicholas felt a tightness in his chest. It was amazing that he should be here as the Duke of Severn, with this lovely, luminous woman lying beside him. It was far more than he deserved, a gift he should treasure.
He reached out and laid a callused hand on Daisy’s satiny hip.
Daisy flushed when she realized they were both still naked. And that Nicholas was staring at her with avid eyes. She wasn’t sure what part of her most needed covering. When she lifted a hand, he said, “Don’t.”
“What?”
“Don’t hide from me. You’re beautiful. Exquisite, really.” He laid his hand on her hip and slid it across her hipbone to her belly, then down into the nest of curls between her thighs.
Daisy was mortified. “What are you doing?”
“Making love to you.”
“I don’t … You can’t …”
“You do … I can …” he said with a teasing laugh. His fingers slid inside her, first one, then another.
Daisy tensed for the pain, then realized she was embarrassingly wet down there.
“Relax. I promise this won’t hurt a bit.”
Daisy laughed nervously. “It already does.”
He paused and looked at her face. “Really? Does it?”
“It doesn’t hurt, exactly. But it feels … strange. My body …”
“Is responding to mine,” Nicholas said in a husky voice.
Daisy felt his thumb move across a particular spot and hissed in a breath of air. Her fingers clenched on the sheets. “That feels good.”
“I’m glad,” Nicholas said.
“Should I touch you?”
“Do you want to?”
Daisy was torn between wanting to touch and being shy and embarrassed. Nicholas solved the problem when he brought her hand to his chest and slowly slid it down to his abdomen. He stopped there, leaving it to Daisy to decide whether she wanted to do more.
Daisy did.
It was strange, Daisy mused much later, how easy it was to shed her inhibitions with Nicholas. He had no modesty at all and allowed her none. His delight in sex was earthy and natural, and he expected her to enjoy their bedplay every bit as much as he did. Daisy was more than willing to experiment. In fact, she discovered that Nicholas was as vulnerable to being kissed and touched all over as she was. It was a heady experience to reduce him to gasps and groans and cries of pleasure as he had done with her.
It was only when daylight came, when the dawn seeped through the windows, that Daisy realized the folly of what she had done. During the night, Nicholas had demanded everything of her. And she had given him body, heart, and soul.
She had meant to take, not to give.
It was time to step back and reexamine the marriage of convenience she had so blithely entered. It was time to think of self-preservation. Two weeks of this kind of loving and she would never be able to let him go. But he would leave. He had no roots to keep him in England.
Daisy rose from the bed and dressed, careful not to wake Nicholas. This honeymoon was over. He could go to London by himself. She was going home. It wasn’t far, and she could probably be there before he roused.
Once she was home, she would be safe from him. He wouldn’t be able to force her to do anything she didn’t want to do. If he did, she would scream for help. The servants at Severn were her people, and, duke or not, they would come to her rescue.
Daisy took one long last look at the sleeping beast before she closed the door behind her. She knew she had to make her escape quickly. Because when Nicholas awoke, she knew the barbarian would be back.
14
Daisy told John Coachman that a business emergency had made it necessary for His Grace to leave The Wolf and the Lamb during the night and that she was returning to Severn Manor to await his return. She gave no reason for scheduling her departure before it was light enough to see the road, leaving it to the servants to assume it was a simple matter of the Quality being corkbrained and clothheaded.
Daisy gnawed all her fingernails to the quick during the journey home, then was so upset with herself for running away, instead of staying to challenge the duke and demanding new terms for their marriage of convenience, that she burst into tears. She found the handkerchief in her reticule and dabbed at her eyes. It wouldn’t do for the servants to see her crying. She was supposed to be a happily married woman. Although it probably didn’t ma
tter whether she continued the charade, since Nicholas would arrive very shortly to obliterate it.
He was going to be livid.
Daisy’s chin came up a notch at the mere thought of confronting the duke. It had been his idea to take her to bed. She hadn’t promised she was going to like it, or that she was going to hop cheerfully between the sheets whenever he ordered it.
She sniffed and wiped her nose with her damp handkerchief. If only it were a real marriage. If only he were in love with her. Then everything would be fine. Because, to tell the truth, she had liked what happened between the sheets just fine. It was the threat of heartbreak that concerned her. Nicholas had the power to destroy her.
Daisy knew it was imperative that the servants believe her story about the duke’s business. There was the slim possibility that Nicholas wouldn’t come storming in and shatter the illusion she was creating for both their sakes.
“Good afternoon, Thompson,” she said as the butler held open the door for her.
“Welcome home, Your Grace.”
She saw the questions in Thompson’s eyes and blessed the man for not asking them. “Please tell Mrs. Motherwell to send up some water for my bath. Tell Cook I’ll have tea in the drawing room in an hour.”
Daisy walked up the stairs to her room knowing that word would quickly spread through the house that she had returned from her honeymoon after a single night, and that she had come without the duke.
Jane was scheduled to leave shortly on her trip to London. She was just putting away the last of the laundered and pressed clothing in Daisy’s closet, checking as she did for clothing that needed repair, when Daisy walked through her bedroom door.
“Your Grace! Why are you here? Where is His Grace? What happened?”
“Let me close the door first, Jane,” Daisy said, as she shut out all the curious ears in the hall. It was a relief to be home, to be in her room, to have made it here at last. She wanted to lie down on the bed and close her eyes and sleep. Three hundred years sounded about right.
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