When he stepped from the shadows into the light of a shell-shaped wall sconce, she gasped and clutched the towels to her chest. “Oh, Your Grace, you gave me a start."
He smiled. “I am sorry.” He glanced at the closed bedroom door with a frown. “I thought Elizabeth might be ready by now."
Pandora grinned and unconsciously lifted one hand to straighten her mobcap, which had gone askew. “Lady Elizabeth, oh, pardon me, I mean Her Grace was a wee bit nervous so I suggested a soak."
"She's in the bath?” The images evoked delighted him, made him want to drool like a slavering dog. His palms itched to touch wet-dappled skin, smell lavender soap on a naked female body. Elizabeth's naked, female body.
He couldn't help himself; he had to ask, “What does she think of it?"
"The bathing room? Ooh, Your Grace, she thinks it heavenly.” Pandora rolled her eyes. “Never in all my days have I seen such a thing! All those blue tiles and the sunken tub with running water. And those faucets! The brass ones shaped like dolphins! They are from another world, they are."
"I am glad you like it. I had it built just after my father died. Having seen something like it in the Orient, I knew I must have that luxury for myself.” Christian had spared no expense. Mermaids inlaid with gold filigree chased randomly across a background of cobalt blue tiles. Large ledges surrounded the sunken tub and held gold soap dishes and trays of candles. When lit, they gave an eerie, yet erotic, glow to the room.
It was a room for seduction.
Though he had never shared this particular bath with a woman, he found he wanted to share it with Elizabeth.
"Here, allow me.” He reached for the stack of towels.
Pandora drew away, eyes wide. “Please, Your Grace. She is very nervous. That is why I suggested a soak to begin with. If she sees you, she will faint dead away."
Christian lifted a mocking brow. “Faint? Elizabeth is not a woman to faint easily, and well you know it. Now she might throw something at me, but I doubt she will drop away in my arms from shock."
"She is a tough little bird, is she not?” Pandora grinned suddenly and thrust the towels into his arms. “Do your worst, sir. Best she get it over with it, I say."
"I quite agree,” he solemnly added as his lips twitched with wry humor. “We shall call tomorrow when your services are needed. It will, no doubt, be quite late. Understood?"
Pandora winked bawdily and practically danced away. “Understood. ‘Til the morrow then."
Christian sucked in a deep breath and entered the bedroom. Gazing around in satisfaction, he saw that everything was as he'd ordered. A low fire gave color to the dark room, along with a lit brace of candles sitting atop a table. Beside the candles sat a vase of wild roses that exactly matched the color of Elizabeth's wedding dress.
That same dress hung across the wardrobe door, prompting a swift smile. The wedding bouquet he'd ordered graced the seat of a chair, streamers of ivory ribbon falling delicately to the floor. Already the room smelled of Elizabeth, elegantly floral with a touch of exotic spice.
The bathing room was connected to the master suite by a door. The duchess’ chamber was located on the opposite side of his room. In the scheme of things, it hardly mattered since Elizabeth would never occupy it. Perhaps when their babe was born, the room would become a nursery. He had always believed parents should tend their children rather than nannies and governesses. A warm glow of anticipation seeped through his consciousness. A few short months ago, he would never have imagined the thoughts he now fostered.
Eyeing the closed door of the bathing room, he recalled the days when his mother had slept in the duchess’ chamber beyond. As a small boy, he often escaped the nursery to snuggle against her through the night. It was a lovely room with sweet memories attached to it, but it would remain empty until his son was born. He planned to keep his bride close at hand and in his own bed every night.
A softening occurred in the vicinity of his heart, but when a faint splash reached his ears, his mind returned abruptly to more carnal matters. His body clenched in anticipation.
Taking advantage of the time, he shucked out of his jacket and shoes and removed his starched, white cravat. After removing the diamond buttons from his shirt, he tossed the garment to the floor. Wearing only his trousers, he again took up the stack of towels.
Quietly, he opened the door. Shimmering images danced upon the walls, images produced by candlelight upon water. Transfixed, he silently moved into the scented atmosphere and watched Elizabeth as she attended her bath. Remaining still at that moment was the hardest thing he had ever done. Spying a low stool in a darkened corner, he dropped on to it, prepared to enjoy the dazzling view.
Unaware of his presence, Elizabeth sank deeper into the water only to rise moments later, water glistening on pale skin. Rivulets trailed down her long, slender neck and past her shoulders. His vision hampered, he could only imagine the drops delving coyly into the valley between her lush breasts, clinging gently to pale, tender skin.
He felt the steam in the room blend with the sudden heat of his body and wished his remaining garment to disappear. He would not remove the trousers, however, not yet. For all her bravado, Elizabeth was an innocent, and he found he hadn't the heart to further terrorize her.
As if she'd heard his thoughts, she spoke, obviously thinking Pandora had re-entered the bath. “Tell me again not to be afraid, Pandora. Mother says nerves on one's wedding night are normal but still ... I do so hate being ignorant, especially with Christian. How he would love to laugh at my uncertainty. The beast."
Christian wanted to laugh, but held his tongue as a length of her upswept hair tumbled to a damp shoulder where it clung like lake moss to a stone. With impatient fingers, she lifted her arms to tuck the errant strand back into place.
He held his breath as he saw a tantalizing glimpse of her breast, heavy and wet, lift with the movement. He stifled a groan of sheer frustration.
Blessedly ignorant, she reached for a soap-laden sponge and casually lifted one long, shapely limb from the scented water. “What shall he do to me tonight, I wonder? No, don't answer. I already know what Christian will do. What, you ask? He shall do whatever he wants, as always. My new husband will run over me as if I were an urchin in the streets and I, like that urchin, will beg. Beg, beg, beg like a bloody fool!"
"Ah, but I love to hear a beautiful woman beg,” he said from the shadows. His voice was dark, deep, and redolent with raw sensuality.
Water splashed as Elizabeth squealed and flailed her arms. Turning in the wide, chest-high bath, she stared aghast at Christian. As she folded her hands protectively across her breasts, she yelled, “How dare you!"
Her husband was a cad! Look at him! Smug and grinning like an ape!
"Have you forgotten our vows so soon, love?” he asked. “And lest you forget, I dare much."
"How could I forget the worst day of my life?” she countered, uncomfortably aware of his lazy, masculine sprawl. Despite the fact he was a sneaky, intrusive lout, it was impossible to remain immune to the sensual picture he made. Bare-chested, his body corrugated with ropy muscle, her husband was the very ideal of male beauty. His thick hair, loose and blacker than sin, made her fingers itch to stroke it.
He stood graceful, yet predatory, and she silently cursed him. Without a qualm, he moved closer. Looming over her, he held a heavy towel in one fist and propped the other upon his hip. Gazing intently into her eyes, he clicked his tongue twice. “What an awful thing to say to your trembling bridegroom."
"You, sir, have never trembled a day in your wretched life. Please, leave."
"Come,” he said softly. “Let me dry you. I realize you wish to prolong the inevitable, but you shall prune like an old woman if you linger."
Sudden humiliation shook Elizabeth to the core. Already she was frightened beyond endurance. Did he have to loom there like some kind of apparition? Well, he was a gorgeous apparition, but still! Surely he could give her a moment? Looking into his e
yes, she knew her time was up.
Despite their bantering words, she wanted to die. Being caught en déshabillé was not something to which she was accustomed. Unexpectedly, the stress of the day and her terror of what the night would bring struck with brutal force.
"Please, Christian.” Her voice cracked pitifully. “Must you shame me this way?"
His hard features softened. “Ah, love, why do you insist on thinking me a cad?” He moved closer and, holding her gaze, smiled tenderly. “I see nothing but rare beauty before me. Your beauty. The sight of you renders me speechless, but fills me with pride that you are, at last, mine. Come, darling. Let me take care of you."
Terror weakened her limbs as she mutely looked down. Ashamed. Yes, she was humiliated to be naked and afraid before him. Where had her bravado gone?
"I can take care of myself.” The words sounded weak to her ears.
"Of course, you can,” he said. “But tonight you must humor me. Come. Stand up."
Dragging in a deep breath for courage, she lifted her gaze and watched as he unfolded the thick, plush towel and held it before him. Cautiously, she stood, bravely meeting his gaze.
Mesmerized, she saw the candles’ glow reflected in the gray of his eyes, saw them flicker downward, darken, and remain transfixed upon her nudity. “You are utterly lovely, Elizabeth. Would that I could take this moment and carry it with me always."
Helplessly, her body responded to his words. Though her arms wound protectively over her nakedness, a fission of awareness, an awakening, trailed languidly through her limbs, taunted her breasts, and teased wickedly at the juncture of her thighs where she was hot and throbbing. Terror and want warred inside her. How could these feelings co-exist?
Christian drew the towel behind her and using the cloth to advantage, tugged her closer. She shivered as he lowered his mouth to drink the dampness from her throat. Teasing with his tongue, he found the sensitive spot where her neck met shoulder and began to sip. Her helpless moan seemed to fuel his ardor. His hold tightened and his mouth grew wild, sending the flicker of heat within her into full, roaring flame.
"You are so sweet. Such a pleasure to seduce,” he said, feathering a breath over her skin. The man was wicked sin incarnate as he lowered his face to one hardened nipple and nuzzled with his cheek, then his lips. “So beautiful these are. Hard, like jewels, and tempting. Tell me, wife, is it the cold or my touch that puckers them so delightfully?"
Flicking his tongue over her flesh, he nipped gently, the pleasure causing her sigh to break into a moan.
"Ah, yes, love, acquiescence. What an arousing sound.” He suckled lightly at her nipple and tossed the towel aside. “I need to touch you, darling. I need to feel your response. Tell me this pleases you, sets you afire."
"No. It—” When Christian's mouth continued to ply her nipples, first one then the other, she writhed again. Fire shot from one pulse point to the other, making its way directly to her loins where an odd, yet familiar ache throbbed to the tempo of his suckling.
"Oh, oh God,” she cried, clutching his head, arching into the intimate caress.
"Yes, that's it,” he crooned. “Give yourself to the pleasure. Take it. Revel in it.” His hands were everywhere it seemed, until no part of her remained untouched. She felt the sweep of them along her naked back. She felt his grip on her bottom as his fingers teased along the shadowy crease between.
Unheard of! Oh my!
Dark forces and stark sensuality converged as rampant arousal tore through her fragile control. He ruled her utterly as he buried his lips between the valley of her breasts. She shivered. Her breath grew harsh as he caressed her belly and lower.
Shockingly, he sank before her. He drew his lips across her belly and tasted with his tongue and teeth.
"Oh, dear,” she whispered brokenly. “What—"
He parted her limbs and stroked the insides of her thighs with a touch so electrifying she thought she might fly apart.
"You are loveliness personified,” he whispered, his voice rough and seductive. “No, darling. Do not stiffen so. Yes, that's right. Give of yourself. Take all that I would give you."
Her resolve to be immune to his charms dissolved at the feel of his warm breath teasing the flesh between her thighs, the place where dark curls weaved a protective web. The place she'd never known could harbor such sensation.
His breath, hot with words of praise, inundated her fragmented senses and like a wanton, she widened her stance. Reveling against the feel of his breath against sensitive tissues that pulsed with life, she cried his name.
The stroke of his tongue at the crevice of her womanhood filled her with unparalleled awe. “Christian!” she gasped wildly. Shame and a wildness for completion warred within her pulsing body. A rain of pleasure dampened her. She felt it move like molten gold, lighting her senses, her passion, to fever pitch.
"I'm here,” he said, drawing away slightly. “Let me look. God, you're delicious.” Gently he stroked one blunt fingertip over the edges of her secret place. He parted her to caress the tiny bundle of nerves that held the key to her every sense of feeling. With one hand, he lifted her leg and placed it upon the highest step, exposing every intimate detail of her body to his gaze.
Elizabeth felt shame intrude once again, only to dissolve into so much mist at the feel of his lips closing around the sensitive, tender spot at the apex of her sex. Lightly he suckled there, just there, where she was needy and wanting. Waves of pleasure washed over her as he pulled her tighter against the wetness of his mouth, the suckling pressure, and the transforming delight. She cried out at the feel of his mouth, the feel of his hands upon her hips.
"You are nectar, sweet and tantalizing,” he whispered. “You make me hungry. You taste of honey and submission.” He teased her with his fingers making her gasp. “I want to devour you. Make you mine!"
He groaned against her throbbing flesh, making her writhe against the source of her passion. She didn't want to love him. She didn't want to need him, but this was all too much and not enough. She was confused, but steeped in wanton pleasure as he trailed a finger through the wetness of her body and gently probed her entrance. Delight tore through her as he teased lightly, in and out with his finger all the while suckling her tender flesh. His breath hummed against her, and she cried out wildly in answer.
"Come for me,” he whispered, releasing her sensitive skin. His breath moved hot and restless. He flicked lightly as she mewled against the loss of astounding pleasure. “Feel me taste you, love. You're like honey. You are sex personified and any man's dream. Sweet Elizabeth,” he flicked again, applied just a bit more pressure. “You're my dream."
Then he opened his mouth upon her as if to swallow her very soul. His tongue plunged and stroked; he nipped delicately and drew her deep within him.
Shaken, she clutched his long hair as a scream built deep within her chest. Nothing had ever caught her, tormented her as his mouth did. Never had she imagined such deep, satisfying power.
As he stroked and suckled, as he murmured breathless love words, she began her fall under his magical spell. Coiled and tense with anticipation, she felt at last the quickening movement of his mouth mimic the quickening of her body. She felt his hands as he stroked her body, her resolve.
Chest expanding, heaving, a deep wail broke through the sounds of lapping water and absolute quiet. Feeling washed violently over her, and she trembled.
Her voice. Her pleasure.
The sounds echoed from cool tiles and wrapped themselves around her heart. Love for him imploded within her body with the enormity of her release.
In the end, she could only cry out his name.
Rising swiftly, Christian lifted her naked and half-wet into his powerful arms. He kissed her lips. “Gather yourself, my sweet. Our night has just begun."
Sixteen
The huge bed seemed woven in wonder as Christian laid Elizabeth naked upon it.
"Christian,” she breathed.
Noting the
trembling of her limbs, he was unsure whether she shook from spent passion or worry over what was to come. Feelings of tenderness overtook him. For the first time, he thought of the untold number of women he'd pleased in bed and was thankful for the expertise he'd gained. Then, it was all a game, a means to an end. Tonight was forever. He had to make everything good for her.
Preparing for his sensual assault, he pressed a soft kiss to her trembling lips, bending over her only to rise to the side of the bed seconds later. “A moment,” he begged, unbuttoning the offending trousers and dragging them from his body. When his erection sprang free, he felt her gaze on him. Her body stilled and her eyes widened, making him want to laugh. Such an innocent!
"Don't be afraid,” he said, smoothing his hand down the hard length. He throbbed and ached with need for her, but hid that fact behind a calm demeanor. No need to send his bride running from fear. “I am only flesh, darling. You can hurt me or please me. I only know that I am at your mercy."
"I cannot help it,” she whispered. “I'm afraid. It will never fit, Christian. Never.” Tension radiated from her in waves as she made a vain attempt to shield her body from his eyes. She flung one bare arm over her chest and trailed the other to shield her feminine secrets. Lying there upon his bed, her hair a bright flag against the pillows, she looked a pagan sacrifice.
Her shiver of alarm didn't escape notice and against his will, a chuckle emerged. “Believe me, sweet wife, it will fit quite well. You must trust me."
He continued to watch her, letting her become accustomed to his nakedness and after a moment or two, his patience paid him back tenfold. Curiosity quickly outpaced her trepidation as she began an intense study of his body.
Christian watched her gaze take in the breadth of his shoulders then catch upon the hair on his chest. She worried her bottom lip, and her delicate nostrils flared with what, he hoped, was desire. His erection could not have been more prominent, but his new wife was a brave soul and continued to look upon him with unabashed intensity. Impossibly, he grew thicker.
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