“That she never said. Instead she wanted me to understand the importance of choosing a mate wisely.”
“I hope you have.”
“I think I have,” he admitted and held out his hand. “Come with me.”
She shook her head, refusing to take it. “I have to know…”
He took pity on her and stepped to her. “What?”
“Do you think we’ll be happy together?”
“I want to be.”
But she stepped back.
“Lily, if you don’t wish to proceed, we can wait. We have years and years together.”
She waved a hand toward his bedroom. “This should happen before that!”
She was so dear. “It will. Don’t worry. I’ll show you to your rooms. We have a connecting door.” He gestured toward it. “You can return whenever you wish.”
“All right.”
Trailing him, she said nothing. So much for his hope to unhook that pretty little frog.
He turned the knob of the door and pulled it open.
She walked through but halted on the threshold—and whirled to face him. “I’m being childish, aren’t I?”
“Be you.” He had to be noble about her reluctance.“Good night.”
Smiling at her, he began to close the door.
But she put a hand to the wood. “I really don’t want to wait. I liked what we did today. In the coach. Can we do more of that, please?”
He hauled her close. She was spontaneous, natural, the qualities that lit his heart and had him taking her in his arms, smoothing her hair from her temples and burying his lips in her fragrant hair. She came to him trusting him, and he detected that beneath the wrapper, she wore next to nothing.
He stroked her collarbone down to her cleavage and that tempting red frog.
Undoing the closure of her robe, he pushed aside the fabric. Cool night air met her skin and she shivered in his arms. She fell back against the wall.
He cupped her jaw, smiled at her with raw desire and put his lips to her cheek. “We can go slowly.”
“I don’t want to,” she confessed. “You’ll think I’m unwilling.”
“I don’t.”
She let her forehead fall to his shoulder. Her hands gripped the lapels of his robe. So often she’d seen horses mate. Cattle, too. And her herding dogs. Their cries, all harsh. The event over very soon.
“Your fears are groundless, my dear.” He tipped up her chin. “Let me kiss you.”
And so he did. With gentle lips, he pressed his mouth to hers. He went slowly, tasting her soft mouth and arching her up against him in a crush. She clutched his shoulder as he trailed his tongue down the cord of her throat and nuzzled aside her wrapper. With a tug, he brushed it to the floor.
She clamped her thighs together, hot and wanting, needing so much more.
He swept her up in his arms and strode to the oversize chair beside his bed. He curled her on his lap and rested her in his embrace. He sent one large hand over the swell of her breast, warm and commanding over the silk of her gown.
She gasped in pleasure, her eyes drifting closed while a violent urge grew molten in her core. She recalled his hands on her in the coach, the thundering sensation he elicited from her, and she starved to have it again from him. Surrendering to that storm inside her, she looped an arm around his shoulders and rose to claim his mouth in a torrid kiss. He responded, spark for flame, groaning.
She couldn’t bear any more and pushed away, then jumped from his arms.
“Don’t go,” he pleaded, confusion lining his brow, bereft.
She shook her head. “No, that’s not what I want.”
He frowned. “What then?”
The silk negligee she’d chosen was nigh unto transparent. She knew it. Had chosen it for that very reason. Brazen. He’d call her that.
“Dear heart,” he whispered as he stared at her, his eyes hot, drawn down her body and back up to her face. “You are exquisite.”
She swallowed.
“And if you stand like that any longer, darling, you’ll catch your death of cold.”
Her lower lip trembled. “I always have cold feet and hands in winter.”
He couldn’t seem to keep his eyes on her face. “I could warm you if you like.”
“I like.” She affirmed that with a nod.
He narrowed his eyes at her and the seduction she saw there robbed her of breath. “Come here.”
She couldn’t bear to wait any longer. All this talk was reassuring, but only so far. And then she was left hungry, ravenous for his hands on her and his lips and his teeth…
She crossed her arms and in one swift move, reached down, grabbed the silken stuff into her hands and whipped it over her head. She let it slip from her fingertips to pool upon the floor.
The expression on Julian’s face became a blend of reverence and salacious delight that she sore she must imprint on her mind for the day she died.
“Lily,” he breathed and got to his feet to catch her in his arms and stride to his bed. There, tenderly, he laid her down and slid beside her. “I’m amazed at you.”
Her eyes stung with embarrassment. But the rest of her wanted whatever he had to give. “Pleased, too, I hope?”
He put the flat of his palm to the bare skin of her stomach and caressed her, back and forth. “Very much so. I think too it’s time I pleased you.”
He cupped one of her breasts, his gaze voracious as he studied her and circled her nipple with two deft fingers.
“Ohhh,” she moaned, coiling.
“You’re very responsive, darling. I touch you and you melt.” He shaped her areola into a turgid point and she squeezed shut her eyes.
She writhed and he hooked one leg over hers, pinning her to the soft linens. Grabbing his hair, she looked into his eyes. “There’s more you did weeks ago in the salon.”
“Ah, yes. This?” He sucked her nipple into his mouth.
And she whimpered.
“This too.” He trailed his hand down her torso to stroke her thighs and cup her there. Gently, he pressed one finger inside to caress her deeply. Then he added another. His strokes were sure and slow.
She flailed her head against the sheets.
“I know,” he whispered, ragged, and shifted to take her other breast into his mouth and lave her to a throbbing torment. “You’re superb, darling,” he reassured her and slid lower on the bed.
“No!” She clutched at him. “Don’t go.”
“Never.” On his haunches, he winked at her and crawled between her legs. Then he sank between them, put two fingers to her fiery flesh and opened her wide.
She twisted, the urge to run and hide or scream thrown to the wind in delicious surrender as he spoke to her in firm and soothing words.
“I want to taste you. Let me.” And he lowered his mouth to her and lavished her with ardent little kisses along her secret folds.
She keened in delight, grabbing the sheets and arching, pausing in mid-air, full of the sultry wet strokes of his tongue. She hovered in space, expectant, rabid to have more, more and more again.
He gave it. Spreading her lips wide, he found that same spot he’d discovered in his coach, but this time, his fingers gave way to the glories of his tongue. He sampled her sweetly with a kiss. Slowly with a long tender suck and then he massaged her with the hard flicks of his tongue.
She lost her breath, panting. “Julian, Julian,” she cried over again as he spun her higher and tighter into a tornado of wild delight. She couldn’t think, move, wanting only this madness he gave with abandon and moans of pleasure. “Oh, Julian,” she groaned as she launched herself over a new and spectacular cliff to land, pulsing in his arms.
Languid, she locked her gaze on his. He smiled and combed back her hair. “Shall you have more?”
She caught him close. “Yes, yes!”
He turned to one side, divested himself of his silk trousers and came back to her, crawling up between her legs. Hooking his arms under her knee
s, he grinned at her and moved so near she resisted his searing flesh on hers. And then the probe, slow and sure, of the tip of his cock. Next the fullness of him, a wider girth and hotter. At last, the entire length of him, so large, so hard, her mouth fell open.
He caressed her cheek and asked if he was hurting her.
She shook her head in wonder. This joining was not like the animals at all. “No. I love you inside me.”
“Oh, Lily, I love it too.”
And with swift strokes, he surged into her and brought them both up to that precipice and sailed them down. So that, at last, she was his wife. He was hers.
Of bliss, she could name only one missing piece. Did she love him? He her? Or were they a good bargain for each other? The marquess and the heiress. The one bought, the other sold. Could they find love somewhere in between?
She could. At the realization, tears sprang to her eyes.
He noticed, thumbed them away and cradled her close.
For those who were bought and sold, was love a commodity that was durable?
Chapter Twelve
Nora drew back the blue damask draperies and white sheer curtains, the rays of the sun warming Lily in bed and making her turn toward the space where Julian had lain last night. Gone now, he couldn’t have left too long ago as the sheets were still warm.
“Would you like your breakfast on a tray, my lady?” Nora turned toward her, all efficiency this morning and not meeting her gaze.
“No, thank you, Nora. I’ll go down. Draw a bath for me quickly, will you?” She fingered the pearls at her neck. Amazed they had suffered no harm in the evening’s festivities, Lily smiled to herself and rolled over to hide her grin in the pillows.
The maid puttered about so much that Lily emerged from her pillows to sit up and witness her activities. “You can put out a morning dress for me, Nora. I’ll have my breakfast and then return up here to dress for the day.”
“But, ma’am, that is not done,” the maid said, her brows high.
“I will, Nora. I’ll have my velvet dressing gown.” Lily preferred to dress herself and feeling so deliciously decadent from her husband’s ardor, she abhorred the idea of whalebone and constriction.
Less than an hour later, her bath over, she sailed down the staircase to enter the dining room. There at the far end of the table sat her new husband, barbered, well dressed for the day in a tweed jacket and twill waistcoat. He read a newspaper, but at her entry, he glanced up. This look on his face—dare she call it reverence or awe?—was another one she wished to commit to memory for her dotage.
“Come sit with me, my lady.” Julian beckoned her and with his fingers, made a motion to the footman to serve her and leave.
She came to sit at his right hand and allowed the footman his duty of seating her. Beneath the table, Julian pressed his knee to hers. She undulated in her chair, her inner core molten and pulsing at his seduction. At her uncontrollable needs, she caught her breath. But her body defied her as her breasts beaded and her mind bent to the thrilling memories of the erotic ways Julian had excited her last night. And in the meantime, the footman took for blasted ever to serve her coffee and a plate of eggs and toast and bacon.
When he closed the door and the latch clicked shut, she exhaled.
Julian’s hand covered hers and pulled her up. He whirled his chair around and yanked her into his lap. “I’ve waited hours to have you again.”
She marveled at him, ecstatic that he could be hungry for her. “Me, too.”
His hand to her nape, he kissed her, devouring her lips and thrusting his tongue inside to trace the cavern of her mouth. She cupped his cheek and kissed him back.
But his other hand was already traveling her thighs and parting her legs. “Darling,” he said as his mouth sucked on hers and he sent two fingers up inside her very needy core. “You are very wet.”
“Could you help me with that?” she offered and moved to allow him greater access.
He barked in laughter and brushed aside her skirts. “I could. Good woman, you are, to have worn no pantaloons.”
“I wanted you,” she said as she kissed him and rocked against his fingers.
“Stand up,” he ordered her. And when she did, he led her to the far end of the dining room table and laid her back upon the bare expanse.
“Can we do this?” she asked in wonder while he opened his flies and his large hard cock popped out. “Don’t you have…um…other things to do?”
She shivered, eager, her mouth watering to have his long firm member inside her.
“You are my only occupation at the moment. Besides, the table is old. Solid. And you—” He breathed through flared nostrils as he surveyed her flesh naked from the waist to the tips of her toes. “You are beautiful. And mine.”
Swallowing loudly, she spread her legs, eager, wanton, discarding old lessons about virtue and timidity. “Be quick and then let me— Ohhh.”
He slid inside her, his eyes closed, his face up, his cock solid and searing, consuming her to the hilt. He seemed mesmerized, transported. His long dark lashes fluttered and he opened his eyes to caress her with hot intent. In a fluid motion, he began to pump her, filling her with frenzied need. All the while, he pinched and circled that special point within her folds. And he drove her mad.
Sinking down into the black comfort of his possession, she lolled her head upon the hard wood of the table. Her breasts ached for his teeth. Her hips bucked, urging him closer, faster, tighter.
“Is this what you had in mind for breakfast?” he asked as he moved in and out of her.
“Better than.”
“Me, too.”
She laughed and whimpered as he began a regular plumbing of her depths in a smooth and fascinating rhythm. “Wives don’t bare themselves on the dining room table this early in the morning?”
“Most don’t.”
“Do you mind that I do?”
He shot up inside her and held. “Do you?”
She bit her lips. “Oh, no. I love this.”
He slid out and in again, rock hard against the limits of both their bodies. “I want more of you than this.”
Tears burned her eyes. Whatever remained to give him was a mystery. But his desire was all she needed to know. “Have me.”
He grabbed her at her nape, leaned over her and ground his lips on hers. His heat, his ardor, was frightening and beautiful. How had she created that emotion in this man? Or was that what every mating came to? This ferocity? This bliss.
He slammed into her, her body arching up, her cries loud and pleading with him to take all of her.
He growled, coming into her at the same moment that she broke apart, trembling, pulsing. Her culmination was more violent, more satisfying than those the night before. He withdrew his cock from her and arched over her, his forehead to her stomach, his lips to her mound. “You are sensual and generous. As unique as those pearls you wear.” He raised his head and branded her with the delight in his eyes. “You and I will do very well together.”
“If we start each day like this,” she told him with a wicked grin, “I’d agree.”
He threw back his head to laugh. “Come, my dear. You need sustenance for these games.”
She brushed down her garment, accepted his hand and tossed him a wink. “Patience is a virtue, I’m told. But I’m very inclined to play.”
He pointed to the table. “I will not see you waste away. Sit and eat first. Afterward, we can adjourn to the bedroom.”
“You’d humor me?” she asked with a whisper full of bright intentions.
He cupped her cheek and kissed her with torrid heat. “In that, as in much else. Yes. Always.”
Minutes later, she finished eating and Julian led her up to their bedroom.
He had taught her to crave him.
She followed him, grinning with satisfaction.
They would indeed do well together. In bed. For as long as that fascination lasted.
Would they do as well together out of
bed? They could make each other laugh and they could talk about serious matters, like money.
That was a sound beginning.
* * * *
“I apologize for my delay, Chelton.” The family lawyer, Phillip Leland, strode across the carpet and gave Julian a small bow. With his offices in the City, Willowreach was a long journey for him. But Julian had sent him a letter the day before his wedding to request his help and he’d come. “I had to spend the night in Ashford. But the rain is hideous. Many roads flooded.”
“Sorry to bring you down to me in the downpour.” Julian offered him the chair before his desk.
With a shock of bright gold hair and large eyes, Leland was a long, lean drink of water. He was a dedicated man, working more hours than he should for their impoverished family. Once in an altercation with a man who’d insulted his sister, he’d suffered a saber cut to his left cheek and a leg injury. Limping, he headed toward the chair and sank into it. “It never ends. Terrible prognosis for your crops.”
“Just as bad for your wounds.”
“I do feel it in my bones.”
“A few of my tenants are down with hacking coughs. A few children, too.”
“A shame. Unnaturally cold for mid-June.” Leland, though Julian’s age, seemed to shiver.
“Tea will be here soon. But something stronger in the meantime?”
“Stronger would be welcome.”
Julian went to his sideboard, unstoppered a bottle of Italian brandy and poured two bountiful portions. “Here you go. Drink up.”
Leland downed a goodly portion. “Thank you.”
“I hated to ask you to come south in this mess,” he said and wandered back to his desk.
“And so soon after your wedding, too.”
Julian couldn’t suppress the smile that spread upon his lips. He’d been wedded to Lily all of six days and each new morning, he felt lighter. Dare he say, giddy. Foolish, perhaps even childish, but true. Serious matters overtook his delight and he shook his head at Leland. “My haste is necessary.”
“A problem with your wife’s marriage settlement?”
“Not at all. I’m very pleased with the funds. Far more than I expected.” More than I deserve what with my dim view of marriage in general. “I wish to discuss a few financial matters. First, we own two parcels of land in Ireland I’d like to sell and quickly, too. Hopefully you can find a buyer.”
Wild Lily (Those Notorious Americans Book 1) Page 18