by Jenna Jaxon
Duncan escorted her into a spacious wood-paneled foyer as servants seemed to materialize out of thin air. Not even in her father’s drill formations had she seen such precision and speed. Before she quite knew what was happening, she found herself in an elegant bed chamber decorated in muted tones of gold and burgundy. One maid supervised a bath behind an elaborately scrolled screen, another released her from her travel stained gown and a third assisted Margery in unpacking her trunk.
With four servants scrambling about, she bathed, and had dressed in the ice blue wedding gown by the time Duncan tapped on the door. Margery admitted him, sent Duncan a sly glance then shooed the maids out of the chamber.
Freshly washed, shaved and changed into an elegant gold silk-jacquard suit, he looked devastatingly handsome. The clean smell of his citrus cologne drifted over her. Alone with him at last, and at a loss for what to do, she glanced down at her demurely folded hands. She had wished and dreamed and fretted for this moment, yet now she stood stock still, heart beating in little jerking spasms. And he was making her more nervous. He feasted on her with his warm gaze, stared unblinking for so long heat rose in her face. She had to do something to break the silence. “May I have some wine, please?” Perhaps that would help stave off this wretched trembling in her stomach.
He continued to gaze at her as he poured and handed her the goblet. Their fingers touched, sending a jolt through her so intense she almost dropped the goblet. She tried to sip the rich wine, but sips turned to gulps, though her eyes were screwed shut against the harsh bite of the dry vintage.
Duncan plucked the golden glass from her hand and deposited it with his on the table. “You do not need to find courage there for this evening, sweetheart,” he murmured, running a finger down her cheek. He leaned closer. “The act of love is a natural thing between a man and a woman. And I am so very glad I am the one who will share my love with you.” His breath puffed against her ear, sending shivers of desire through her. “Would you like to eat?”
She shook her head. Food was the last thing on her mind now.
“Good.” The lowered timbre of his voice set her trembling with excitement. “I find that particular appetite has fled me as well.” He ran his cupped hands down her arms, raising goose flesh in their wake. “Which leaves more room for others.”
Unsettled by his words, Kat waved toward the table, the room, his hands on her. “Are these your rake’s tricks?” She almost didn’t recognize the breathy voice as her own.
A low laugh said he had not taken offense. “But of course they are. Shall we keep a tally of which ones work best?”
Before she could answer, he engulfed her mouth with his, tugged on her lips and fondled the bottom one with his teeth. Her legs seemed as weak as water. She swayed toward him, slid against his hard chest where he held her with a sure grip; had she lifted her legs from the floor she would not have moved an inch. He nuzzled his way over to her ear and a low cry escaped her when his tongue caressed the sensitive inner curves. A moment later he kissed her neck and breathed, “Shall I undress you, love?”
At his throaty tone, molten desire streaked through her veins. An insistent ache pulsed deep between her thighs as her need for him escalated.
She nodded, completely under his spell. He steadied her and began to unfasten the bodice of her gown. When his fingers brushed her skin, prickles of delight shimmered down her body. A nibble on her earlobe, and the prickles became chills chasing down her neck. Of their own volition, her arms went around his waist and she stroked his back. Even through his coat, his muscles were rigid and smooth. He stood her away from him, and a rush of heat bloomed in her stomach as her bodice and skirt fell away from his clever fingers, leaving her clad only in lace-trimmed chemise, stockings and slippers.
The latter quickly dispensed with, Duncan gazed at her, a lazy smile touching his lips. He raised his arms and said, “Would you return the favor, sweet?”
A heated blush crept up her face, but she nodded and eased his jacket over his shoulders. The lush garment fell to the floor with a plop and she ran her hands down his arms, feeling the strong interplay of muscles beneath the fine linen shirt. From his torso, she traced his taut belly upward to his chest, then further, and shook loose his cravat. The lace-trimmed neckcloth fluttered to the floor. She undid first one, then the other button on his shirt, feasting her gaze on the display of soft golden hair and smooth skin as she unveiled his beautiful body. Seductive smile still in place, Duncan watched her, daring her to continue.
A need to meet his challenge drove her to tug his shirt loose, pull the cascading folds over his head and drink in the clean lines of him. Broad, muscular shoulders to narrow waist, he was perfect in form. She drew him close, rubbed her cheek against the downy mat on his chest, breathed in the musky masculine scent that was his. The steady beat of his heart taunted her, so she flicked her tongue over a flat brown nipple.
“God, Kat!” His body jerked and below, where her abdomen pressed, a surge of movement startled her. An expression of mingled shock and delight replaced his smile. “You wish to play with fire, madam?” he murmured hoarsely, bending his head as he captured her face in his hands. He seized her lips with his, plunged his tongue inward, and the floor, the room, the manor itself melted from existence.
Moans came from the back of her throat, and she was afraid she would faint at the tantalizing feeling of him inside her mouth. By the time he fastened his lips again on her neck and rained tiny kisses downward, she could hardly breathe. His mouth grazed the swell of her breast and her eyes popped open. Her chemise had joined the dress on the floor, leaving her completely naked. Then he engulfed her nipple in his hot, wet mouth.
“Duncan!” She could summon no more. Overwhelming shivers cut off further thought. With the tip of his tongue, he teased the sensitive flesh into a peak, then gently tugged on the point with his teeth. She grasped his arms to keep from sinking to the floor. A slick wetness gathered between her legs.
Her husband grinned wickedly and urged her into a chair. “Let me rid myself of the rest of these garments, my love.”
She took a ragged breath and glanced down. Her nipples stood erect, as if his mouth still teased them. Hard and swollen, they ached for his touch once more. God, he made her such a wanton–he had from the first night. Every inch of her body–skin, breasts, legs, and especially that hot place between her thighs–was on alert, eager and begging for his attention. The anticipation made her giddy. A look up at Duncan and she forgot to breathe. When had he shed the rest of his clothing?
He put to shame the pictures of nude Greek statues she’d seen. Or else those sculptors were a poor hand at their trade. His body was beautiful in its clean lines, chiseled abdomen and long, muscular limbs. Oh, to run her hands all over it! He was her first nude man–in the throbbing flesh. Her gaze dipped lower, to his cock that seemed to jut straight at her, beckon her with a siren’s song. Heat rushed to her face. This was a normal part of married life, certainly. The naughty part, to be sure, but...Would it be hot to the touch?
As if reading her thoughts, he moved closer and held out a hand. “You can touch me where you will, love. I won’t break and I don’t bite.” His brown eyes twinkled. “Well, not hard anyway.”
He pulled her from the chair and placed her hands on his waist. With a finger, he raised her chin and she found herself drowning in the dark, heated pools of his eyes. “Make love to me with your hands, Katarina. My body is yours. Do with me as you will.”
On the verge of panic, having no idea what to do, she would have backed away, but he slid his hands around her waist and said, “Follow me, love. When you want to go elsewhere, go and I will follow.”
Immediately he curved his hands over her hips, and after a moment’s hesitation, she moved her hands likewise. He continued around her backside, cupped her buttocks and she did the same, marveling at the firm, supple flesh beneath her fingertips. This intimacy was the most extraordinary experience of her life, to enjoy the sensation o
f his hands on her and of her hands on him, as if they were one being. She ran her fingertips lightly up his back and he skimmed her flesh as well, sending shivers down her spine. Did he feel that too? While she made light circles around his flat nipples, he fondled her breasts, squeezed them together until a deep valley appeared. A guttural moan came from his throat. His eyes were closed, fierce contentment on his face.
That image firmed Katarina’s resolve. Slowly, she retreated down his torso, stroked the sinewy muscles, and must have hit a sensitive spot, for he growled. As she circled his navel with her finger, tremors ran through him, which made her smile with satisfaction. She continued across his hard abdomen, vaguely aware that his touch had stopped mirroring hers, and dared to stray lower still, past his hips to the apex of his thighs. Her fingers brushed wiry hair, and she glanced up once more to gauge Duncan’s response. He stared back at her, his eyes pools of black. “I love you,” he mouthed soundlessly.
“I love you too, Duncan,” she said, and wrapped her hand around her husband’s erection. Great heat and smooth hardness registered as she brushed two fingers the full length to the end, exploring the different shape and texture at the crown. Before she could start the return journey, he seized her hand in a firm but gentle grip.
“You are a wonderfully quick student, my wife.” Duncan’s voice had lowered to a husky murmur she had never heard before. “But I think we must retire now, or we will never make it to the bed.” He drew her toward the big four-poster, but instead of laying her down, threw himself on his back in the center of the mattress and pulled her on top of him until she touched every inch of skin on his body.
“Duncan.” A mewl of desire escaped her as she rubbed her breasts against his bare chest. Her nipples now ached in need.
“Take your hair down, Katarina,” he whispered, pushing her up to sit astride his belly. “I want to make love to you with your ruby hair all around us.” Moments later the wealth of copper locks swung free, swirling around her shoulders, reaching past her waist, enveloping her in a fiery curtain.
“Ahh.” Duncan stared at her as if enchanted, did not move or speak. She shook her head, making her hair dance around them. He seized her arms and rolled them until she lay beneath him, pinned by his warm weight. Kat’s heart raced and the ache between her legs deepened, the final hunger to be appeased.
He reached down, pressed her legs wide, then trailed a finger through the moisture there. His lazy smile widened. “You are as ready for me as I am for you, my love.” As he spoke, a hot pressure strained eagerly between her thighs. “But there is no rake’s trick to take away the pain, Katarina.”
The ache within her seemed worse than any pain possible. “Come inside me now, Duncan,” she whispered, and pushed toward the waiting heat just as he surged upward.
He hadn’t lied; the pain was there–sharp, like the bite of a blade–but over quickly. Then great fullness, as he continued to fill her in one swift stroke.
“Oh, Katarina.” Duncan sighed, a mere whisper with his eyes half closed.
The burn spread where he lay inside her, and she took a sharp breath. But it was done at last.
Suspended above her, he watched her with a sultry look. His smile grew tender. “My wife.”
Of all the things he could have said, that was the sweetest.
“Can you put your legs around me, love? And your arms?”
When Katarina did so, marveling at the way her body stretched to receive him, he rocked gently, withdrawing partway only to return deeper and deeper, until she believed they might truly join as one. Tension built within, a new ache she could not name that blotted out all others. “Duncan,” she cried, needing him to assuage the pain that was not pain.
“Soon, love.” His voice, filled with a tension of his own, washed over her, igniting a new bloom of heat throughout her. His strokes quickened, insistent and driving, urging her toward a spiraling peak that suddenly burst deep within her. Her cries of sheer astonishment carried her along, riding on pulsing waves of indescribable pleasure. As stunned by the continued lapping throbs at her core as by the feeling of oneness with her husband, she lay panting. Moments later, he shuddered, calling her name as he erupted deep within her.
His weight lay pleasantly atop her, though he still bore most of it on his arms. Still her inner flesh pulsed around him. She would have liked to savor the moment even longer, but found herself sliding toward a delightful sleep she was not inclined to fight.
Sometime later, she awoke to find Duncan rolling them onto their sides and pulling up the covers. They were no longer connected and she felt strangely bereft, but then he wrapped his strong arms around her and gathered her to his chest. Snuggled against her husband’s shoulder, she was more content than ever in her life. She smiled as she slipped into sleep. Their next lovemaking could not come soon enough for her.
* * * *
Duncan lay awake, watching the dark night lighten to pre-dawn gray, one arm flung over his head, the other curled protectively around Katarina, who slept unperturbed beside him. Savoring the memories of their lovemaking, reliving every moment so he could remember them in perfect detail, had kept him up most of the night. By the light of the guttering candle, his wife lay with her head pillowed on his shoulder, her bewitching hair spread out beneath the hand she’d laid possessively across his chest. Sight of that hair fanned the ever-present flames of his ardor. Perhaps she’d agree to lesson number two.
He brushed straggling burnished wisps from her face, then dislodged her head and slid down beside her under the covers. When he brushed her lips with his, she did not stir. A second, more lingering kiss drew a soft purr from her throat, but no other response. Chuckling, he engulfed her face in both hands and melded his lips with hers. A moan escaped her this time. She seized his head and invaded his mouth, insisting, with her tongue. Now, this was how to begin the day.
“Good morning, love,” he said, after disengaging their mouths. “You slept well, my lady?”
“Better than I have ever slept before,” she murmured. “So relaxed.” She opened one bright blue eye. “It’s still night. Why aren’t you asleep?”
“Because I am in need of something to relax me, sweetheart. If you are not too sore.”
Her eye closed again. The smile widened on her lips. “Sore? I don’t think so. Anyway, I wouldn’t care if I ached, my love. I am sure you have a trick or two to make me forget.” She swept her hand across his chest and made as if to pull him atop her once more, but he stayed her with a hand to her cheek.
“There are more ways than one, love.”
“More?” She cocked her head.
“Shall I show you?” He tugged her into his arms, opening her mouth with his kiss, re-igniting their earlier passion.
“Umm, yes. Show me what you will.”
Duncan rolled her over, so that she lay on her front. “Sit up on your knees, Kat.”
She complied, her bare bottom pressed against her heels, but gave him a curious look.
“Trust me?”
At her nod, he ran his hands across her smooth, rounded buttocks and up her back. She arched into his caress, and he knelt behind her cupped her full breasts, fingers open so the nipples peeked through. Slowly, he slid his fingers closed, pinching her nipples, teasing them until they formed hard peaks against his palms.
He’d been busy the while, caressing her nape, nibbling down her shoulder, nipping her soft skin until he felt it pebble with goose flesh.
“Lean back on me, love.” He took her weight against him, repositioned her knees apart and continued to stroke and torment her breast. With his other hand, he journeyed down to the tangle of moist red curls between her thighs. At his first touch, she moaned.
“Sore?”
“No,” came the low, throaty response. She strained her head against his shoulder. “No, I’m fine. Ah!” She gasped as he circled the sweet little nub he would use to bring her to the height of pleasure. “What are you doing to me, Duncan? Ahh.” The groan
at the end sounded almost guttural, low and needful.
“Loving you, sweetheart. Is that all right? Does that feel good?”
“God, yes!” Her head rocked back and forth across his shoulder as tension built within her, swifter than last time. He smiled with satisfaction and slid his fingers lower, slipped into her hot, wet flesh and stroked in a slow, insistent rhythm. She moaned again, as he ran his tongue up her shoulder, tasting the light salty sweat he had already evoked with his play below. Her need mounted. He gently pushed her into position on her knees, and as he slipped his fingers out of her, she cried out in protest. As he knelt behind her, the tip of his shaft poised at her entrance, she gave a low, guttural sigh of satisfaction.
Though more than ready for her, he made himself dawdle, teased himself with the feel of her, so ready for him, and teased her with the hot hardness he longed to plunge inside her. But he wanted to make this time as memorable as the first. So he pressed into her tight sheath and slowly possessed her, every inch of her drenched in her desire for him. Arms around his wife, covering her, cherishing her, he enfolded her in his embrace.
Katarina moaned and writhed with impatience, until he finally stopped, his shaft buried inside her. “How is that, my love?” he whispered, breathless with his own desires. “Can you feel me deep inside you?” The image his words evoked, coupled with the long awaited feeling of her body wrapped tightly around his aching flesh, almost sent him headlong into climax. He fought the base urge to seek his pleasure before hers, groaning with the effort to retreat from the edge. “Relax, love. Relax and take me deeper still.”
She breathed in shallow pants and fell to trembling, then her muscles relaxed around him and he could breathe again.
Fighting his urgency, he withdrew and thrust back, going even further than he’d believed possible. The moment was too glorious, the experience must be savored, but that warm, slick slide would undo him all too soon.