He continued to kiss her there while whispering sweet murmurs of how beautiful she was.
When her body floated back under her control, he rose and gently set her skirts over her legs.
The hunger in his eyes, similar to a night predator determined to be satiated, caused her muscles to tighten. She wanted every inch of him over her, around her, and in her. Their bed seemed a mile away.
Breathless, she managed a simple question. “Will you help me undress?”
“Here?” The word didn’t hide his whispered shock.
She nodded. “The bed is too far to walk.”
“No, we are not consummating our marriage in the kitchen.” Within seconds, he swept her in his arms. Startled, Emma laced her hands behind his neck and burrowed deep within his grasp. She tasted his skin as she caressed her lips up and down his jaw. Soon, she would have his naked body next to hers, and she was not going to let him leave the bed anytime soon.
Nick carried her upstairs to her bedroom then kicked the door shut. Gently, he lowered her until her slippers hit the floor. She found herself pressed against the door as he captured her again in a kiss. His arms formed a bracket around her head.
It was difficult determining what was harder—Nick or the door. Emma shivered and pressed her body against his. Without taking his gaze from hers, he gently removed her hairpins. The weight of her chignon fell down her back. Impatient, he ripped the fastenings on the back of her dress. He covered her in kisses—her shoulders, her neck, even the hollow of her throat—as her dress fell to the floor.
She struggled to rid him of the gray coat and navy waistcoat that hid his body. Both of them panted as if they’d run a mile. He pulled off his boots, then with a flick of his wrist, he untied his cravat and lifted his shirt over his head. She sucked in her breath and caressed his chest, all sinew, muscle, and golden skin.
With their fingers entwined, his gaze slowly swept the length of her body. She froze where she stood, acutely aware of his stare. Flames licked her cheeks as she waited.
“You’re perfection.” He kissed her with a slow innocence. Her emotions and thoughts swirled into a muddled mess. He added to the chaos with his hand cradling one of her breasts, his thumb teasing her nipple. “Every day I’ll tell you so.”
He never took his eyes from hers as he undressed. Emma felt the loss of his warmth but waited for what was to come. Deliberately slow, he unbuttoned the fall on his breeches and let them fall. She caught her first glimpse of his cock. Its thickness jutted away from his body toward her. The crown glistened with a pearly liquid.
For a moment, she lost the ability to breathe. Broad shoulders, striated muscles, and narrow hips. She’d never seen such a sight. As if drawn to catalog his physical form, she studied every muscle and sinew. How could a man be so beautiful?
Her gaze settled on the engorged thickness of his cock. How would it ever fit? “Is it uncomfortable … like that?”
A pure look of satisfaction crossed his face. “If you had an inkling of how much, you’d run.” The deep low whisper pulsed in time with the ache below her belly.
She wanted him to take her and stop this delightful torture. Her trust overshadowed any fear. She moved to the bed and held out her hand for him to join.
He covered her with his body, and his heat surrounded her. His hands, strong and sure, caressed her as they lay on top of the coverlets. Soft and made from the finest linen, the bedclothes were sensuous to the touch. He kissed her again, and she was lost as he ravished her with his tongue.
“Please.” She brushed her lips over his. “Hurry.”
Slowly, he raised his body onto his elbows. Passion made his eyes heavy, and his mouth appeared ready to plunder every part of her body. “I’ve patiently waited for this night, and as my reward, I plan to take my time.”
She caught his face in her hands and raised her lips to his. He moaned, and the sound caused his chest to vibrate against hers. She gave him every emotion she could in that kiss before she responded, “I’ve never felt this way—except with you.”
She’d never tire of his body, but more importantly, she’d never tire of him. Deliberately, she traced his flat abdomen until she found the course curls that cradled his erection. He placed his own hand over hers and showed her how to touch him.
She never expected the contrast of smooth velvet skin to encircle his hot, rigid length. With a slow and steady caress, she ran her hand up his cock.
He delivered a smile laced with sin. With her finger, she traced the slit at the tip, slick with moisture. “I could kiss you here. Shall we see if you’d like it?”
“Enough.” His voice turned smoky in its whispers. He grabbed her by the neck and brought her forward for another scalding kiss while his finger rubbed and circled her clitoris. He nipped at her lips before he took her mouth again. She ached in her want for him. Impatient, she bucked into his hand.
“We can’t rush this.” The warning in his words was clear.
She trembled and took a breath, signaling she’d let him attend her without interference—at least for a while. She inhaled sharply when one finger inched its way inside. Foreign, yet it felt tight. He nuzzled her neck as he sucked and kissed a tender spot. She sighed, then whimpered as his thumb continued the sweet torment of circling her tender nub. A second finger joined the first.
His whisper was almost a caress against her skin. “How you respond to my touch.” The fullness was still there but it didn’t overtake the exquisite sensation that was starting to build. She was close to falling again.
He cradled her head, the touch almost unbearable in its tenderness, as he continued his slow, drugging kisses. His eyes were bright with passion.
“I’m going to take you now.” His silken voice enveloped her. “This might be painful the first time. I promise this will be the only time I ever hurt you.” He waited as if asking for her permission.
She smiled at his words. How could she not? She loved him. She closed her eyes at the shock. She loved him with everything in her being. She’d loved him for so long and never realized it. Finally, she could experience everything that she’d dreaded the emotion would entail. It was perfect because it was Nick. “The only thing I care about is having you.”
He guided himself to her entrance and slowly moved inside her. She moved her legs and wrapped them around his waist to find a way to relieve the discomfort. Sweat covered his body from his evident restraint.
“Look at me.” He brought her face to his and kissed her lips gently at first. He nibbled. The distraction made her forget the fullness.
With a swift push of his hips, he entered her completely. She felt a pinch and the pressure of his invasion. By pure instinct, she pushed away from his hard body. He froze above her.
“Sweetheart, don’t move. Give me a moment, or I’ll not be able to make it good for you.”
“I’m fine,” she whispered, but tears welled in her eyes.
“I’m so … so sorry I hurt you.” He kissed tip of her nose and then bent his head as if trying to control himself. “My brave darling.” He delivered a slow kiss along her jaw. “You’re giving. Passionate.” He delivered a similar slow kiss along the other side of her jaw. “Completely exquisite.”
With each word and touch, she softened. He kissed her as he slowly withdrew, then entered her again. And again. Each time he withdrew, she whimpered at the sense of loss.
He cradled her his arms and rocked within her. Soon he came to her mouth and kissed her with his tongue mimicking his movements. It didn’t take long until she felt the pleasure building once again, attempting to crest. She moaned and moved with him as she was close to coming.
Her center clenched around him as he flooded her with his own release. He groaned her name on a sigh.
Together they held each other as their breaths returned to normal. She felt something wet on her cheeks and realized tears were falling.
His arms around her gave her comfort, and his body cocooned every inch of her
in heat. His breath softly fanned her face. “Thank you. I’ve never experienced anything more beautiful than you.”
She had no regrets, none whatsoever, that he made her wait for her wedding night. This was one of life’s most perfect moments, and she was happy and content it was with Nick, her husband.
Unlike anything she’d ever experienced, somehow, he had seized all her thoughts and desires, everything she understood about herself, and rearranged them into some creature she didn’t recognize.
Nick’s breathing slowed. He twisted until he lay on his side facing her with their noses a scant distance apart. His lips touched hers briefly. “You asked about my father.”
She scooted close until their bodies aligned, chest to chest, all her attention on his soulful eyes.
“We were never close. At the age of five, I started attending boarding schools. Briefly, I’d go home for school holidays, but he never spent much time with me. My mother died in childbirth, and my father never remarried.”
His mouth was set in a determined line, but his eyes were pinched as if sharing this secret cost him in ways she didn’t understand. The hurt he allowed her to glimpse made her breath catch. She traced a gentle pattern across his chin hoping the simple touch would ease his pain.
“I never had many friends. However, at Eton, Lord Paul, for whatever reason, took a shine to me. One day, he found a card game and lost. He couldn’t cover his debts, and I signed for them on his promise he’d have the funds within the week. I didn’t know it at the time, but his reputation was to play deep without ever paying for his previous vowels. When they threatened violence, I helped him.”
The husky resonance of his voice drew her focus to his lips. That he was sharing such a confession made her heart heavy. Yet, she recognized it as a precious gift, one she’d cherish forever.
“I asked my father for the funds. He came to school furious, but he paid it. Before he left, he humiliated me in front of some of my classmates by cutting me off. He told me not to come home. From that day forward I swore I’d never set foot on Renton soil again, nor would I ever acknowledge him.” He closed his eyes. “I vowed to do whatever it took to exceed his wealth.”
For a moment, she thought he wouldn’t say anymore. Then, he took her wrist, the one injured, and brought it to his lips.
“In so many words, he informed me I was worthless and no one cared for me.” He continued with his lips on her pulse, the vibration of his words tickling her skin. “You tell that to a fifteen-year-old boy, and he’ll believe it. However, Pembrooke proved Renton wrong. Alex found me ill one day and gave me assistance. We’ve been friends ever since.”
Diaphanous pieces of her heart broke away as Nick recounted the duke’s spiteful scorn. She couldn’t fathom the hate her husband had endured. “Have you seen your father since?”
“No. The day I step foot on the ancestral estate will be the day he dies.” His gruff voice belied the agony in his turquoise eyes. Under normal circumstances, the heat from his body would distract her, but the plaintive lines about his face told her volumes. The urge to cry out and curse his father for hurting her husband became unbearable.
“That’s why Pembrooke, your family, and especially you are so dear to me.”
Such a simple admission caused her heart to rip in two. He had no one growing up. He’d suffered through all of it because of a malevolent father who exercised the power to destroy a precious relationship, one that should have been nurtured and protected. She’d give anything to cure the loneliness of his past and ensure nothing would have the power to scar him again.
She brushed a silken strand of his hair away from his eyes, as she wanted his full attention. “What was your mother’s name?”
“Laura,” he whispered. As if suddenly uncomfortable, he stood and walked to a basin. He made quick work of wetting a toweling. Her attention, the fickle beast it was, focused on the long line of his body. It was a piece of art, a thing of amazing beauty.
When he returned to her side, he took the cloth and gently washed her. He murmured compliments about her toes and nonsensical words of affection about her elbows as he went about the task. Whether he said it or not, he was clear—she was part of his life. What he needed to know was that she belonged to him.
Could she really be that type of woman—one who vowed to make her husband happy and do everything in her power not to see him suffer any heartache? After tonight, she could easily see herself in that role. After what they just shared, she wanted nothing more than to prove she loved him. Whatever it took, he’d never suffer again.
When he finished the task, he washed himself. He came back to their bed and pulled her into his arms. “Someday, tell me one of your secrets,” he whispered before capturing her lips with the sweetest fervor.
His breathing grew even and quiet. Cocooned in his arms, she kissed the space above his heart. Perhaps one day she’d tell him why she fought so hard for the things she wanted. However, not now. She’d not ruin what they created tonight.
I love you. She wanted to whisper the words, but if he could hear her, he’d think she said it out of pity.
She really had turned into a different creature.
* * *
Leaving a tousled, thoroughly pleasured Emma was the definition of torture. In the morning, Nick had found her curled next to him with his arm as her pillow and her hand resting against his heart. He wanted to shirk every responsibility and stay by her side in the perfect world they’d created. For the first time in years, he wanted to hurry through work so he could spend the day with her.
He untangled the bedclothes and stole one last look. Sound asleep, she lay in the middle of the bed with her golden hair spread like a crown atop her head. The wonder of it all still amazed him. Even the house possessed a different sensibility because of her presence.
With a lightness he’d never felt, he made his way to his study. He settled at his desk with a cup of coffee and a pile of unrelenting bookkeeping that awaited him there.
“I apologize, Lord Somerton, for the intrusion. Congratulations on your marriage.” Whaley, his valet, possessed a flair for the dramatic. Better suited for the stage, he was always eager to share his expressive nature. But his grim smile today was completely out of character.
“Thank you. When the countess comes down, I’ll introduce you to her.”
With his hands clasped behind his back, Whaley nodded. “Let’s hope she’s a late riser.”
“Pardon?” Nick asked.
“You have a visitor, the Earl of Aulton, who insists upon seeing you.” Whaley’s face twisted in a frown as if presented with an orange waistcoat and a clashing pale violet evening coat.
Nick leaned back in his chair and contemplated his valet. “Did he state his business?”
“Something about offering felicitations.” Whaley’s nose tilted two inches in the air. “Not someone I’d want our countess to see this morning.”
“Send him in.” Nick stood and walked around the desk. It made a perfect place to lean as he awaited his visitor.
Aulton swept into the room with a black greatcoat billowing like a ship’s sail behind him. It added a certain menace to his swarthy looks. “Lord Somerton, thank you for receiving me. I won’t take up much of your time, but I understand there’s happy news. Congratulations.”
Nick didn’t acknowledge his presence or his good wishes. With a blatant ease that hid his fury, Nick pushed away from his desk and approached.
Smaller by half a foot, Aulton faced him with a smile that failed to reach his eyes. If anything, his gaze resembled a dead shark, cold and lifeless. An appropriate comparison for a cold-blooded killer.
With a deep breath, he brought his right fist back in a calculated move, one designed to provide notice of what was about to happen. It was the only opportunity Nick would give the earl to defend himself.
He thrust forward with his fist and cuffed Aulton square in the nose. The force of the punch snapped the man’s head back with a sicke
ning crunch of bones and cartilage. Spurts of bright red blood spewed through the air. Soon, rivers of red trailed down Aulton’s face, spoiling the snowy-white cravat tied around his neck.
“That’s for touching my wife,” Nick growled. His right fist throbbed from the impact, but he ignored it. With his left fist, he delivered an uppercut to the tender flesh under Aulton’s neck already slick with blood. The punch carried enough momentum that the blackguard lost his balance and fell atop a Chippendale table. The wood split apart with a deafening racket and collapsed into a pile of kindling.
“That’s for marking her skin.” Nick bent and grasped the greatcoat in two hands and hauled the earl to his feet. By now, the blood oozing from the broken nose had begun to darken. “If you ever, and mark my words, ever come near her again, I’ll kill you.”
Aulton cowered.
“You cringe in absolute fear when someone fights back,” Nick taunted, his own blood roaring through his veins. He barely restrained the snarling beast inside his chest that demanded he continue his brutal punishment. With a couple of well-placed strategic hits, Aulton would be mortally wounded. He pulled his fist back, but his conscience roared for him to leave it. Lady Lena’s honor wasn’t his fight. Nick released him with a push, and Aulton fell again. “Get out of my house.”
Stunned, the immoral wretch didn’t move. Finally, he retrieved a handkerchief and held it under his nose. The grunts and groans were a twisted macabre melody to Nick’s ears as Aulton slowly got to his feet.
The skin beneath the earl’s eyes had started to darken from the punch to the face. By morning, both eyes would be black to match his soul. A fitting advertisement that Nick wouldn’t tolerate anyone disparaging his wife.
“Let me return the favor. The warning that is. Your little barbarian show is quite an effective amusement. However, I have another party I’d like to invite you to.” Aulton swallowed as if in pain and coughed a spray of blood.
“No, thank you,” Nick sneered.
The Bride Who Got Lucky Page 23