“I had it prepared for you. But I hope you’ll choose not to use it.” He turned her to face him and placed his hand against her cheek. “I hope you’ll stay with me tonight.”
He tilted her head and placed a soft, teasing kiss upon her lips. She leaned in to him, her body disregarding her mind’s commands.
But then he broke off the kiss. “I believe Tess is waiting to assist you in your dressing room.”
He removed his hands from her and took a step away, granting her a chance to breathe if her lungs would cooperate. The heat in his eyes melted her core and turned her to a liquid pool of heat inside. She hurried away to her dressing room.
Tess bobbed a curtsy when she walked through the door. “My lady, your aunt prepared a trousseau for you ma’am.”
“That was very kind of her, Tess.” Grace stood behind the door and pressed against it while she regained her composure. Her pulse raced and her body ached in her most private areas. But he had hardly even touched her.
“We ought to get you out of your gown, ma’am. You won’t want to keep your husband waiting.” Tess moved to her side and removed pins from her hair. “Lady Kensington put a nightgown in your trousseau and she told me to be sure you wear it tonight. I’ve laid it aside.”
The lady’s maid worked briskly and soon had Grace’s hair freed from its confines so it flowed in soft waves over her shoulders and across her back, nearly reaching to her waist. She moved to the buttons on Grace’s gown next. Before she knew what was happening, she was undressed down to her shift.
Tess moved to the dressing table where a sleeping gown lay ready for Grace to don. It was a diaphanous white fabric that would expose her almost completely to her husband’s gaze.
“I can’t possibly wear that, Tess.” Her eyes bulged and she backed a few steps away, grasping her shift to her chest.
“Why ever not, my lady? His lordship will be taking it off you, I would wager, whatever you wear.” The girl’s eye twinkled in delight.
“What…how do you know of such things?” Grace narrowed her eyes and the young girl.
Tess laughed. “We learn of these things and a good bit more, we house servants do. Never you mind. Off with your shift, and we’ll put this pretty thing on you.”
Grace gawked. “When did you become so bossy?” She had no choice but to lift her arms above her head as her servant pulled the shift from her body.
“Oh, I don’t know, my lady. Maybe when I learned I’d be allowed to stay on as your lady’s maid. Your husband offered me the position, you know. And since you will live in Somerton, I’ll still be near my family. It’s a wonderful situation, I believe. Far better than having you off with Lord Barrow, or in London. I think you and I’ll do quite well with Lord Alexander, don’t you agree?”
Tess settled the nightgown over Grace’s head and smoothed it along her curves. “I think this will do rather well. Your aunt is a right smart lady, ma’am. Lord Alexander will want to eat you alive when he sees you like this.”
Grace was already flushing in embarrassment over Tess seeing her in such a state, but the suggestion of Lord Alexander wanting to eat her alive only served to multiply her discomfort.
“Right then. Off I go, my lady. If you need me, give the bell pull a tug, but otherwise I will be far, far away.” Tess exited through the door to the second bedchamber.
Grace took a few breaths to calm herself. There was no reason to fret. She’d been intimate with Alex before, and it had been a wonderful experience. Once she thought she could go through the door without running in the opposite direction, she returned to the main chamber.
Her husband stood by the hearth, kindling a fire. Candlelight danced about the room, darkened by closed curtains over the windows. He was barefoot and had removed his coat, waistcoat, and cravat. She didn’t see any of his discarded items of clothing. He must have put them in his dressing room.
He walked toward her with his shirt halfway unbuttoned. Auburn hairs dotted his muscled chest. His eyes glowed in the dim candlelight. Alex stopped short of coming near enough to touch her and devoured her with his eyes. Her body burned everywhere his gaze rested, and she moved to cover herself with her arms.
“No,” he said, the word a choked plea. “Let me see you.” He moved closer, took her hands in his, and held her arms out to her sides.
She felt exposed, ashamed. His wedding night ought to be with a woman in possession of her virtue. And hers should be with a man who could love her.
But neither of those would be.
“You are so beautiful Grace. So perfect.”
She felt anything but beautiful or perfect. But then he moved closer still, so the distance between them pulsed. He slid his hands down her bare arms and across her back, moving until they came to a stop on her behind. His hands were so large that one of them almost covered her derrière by itself. He pulled her closer, pressed her length into him. She gasped at his heat against her stomach.
Lord Alexander looked into her eyes. His were liquid pools of forest green, and the gold flecks in them were danced like flickering flames.
“I need you, Grace.” His mouth came down and enveloped hers. He swept his tongue inside to stroke against hers.
A pull in her center drew her into him, and she wrapped her arms around his waist to hold him close. His scent, that glorious, masculine scent of woods and man was enhanced, musky. It washed over her in waves as they moved together and their heat combined.
He pulled the thin fabric up and touched the bare flesh of her backside with his hands, rubbing, kneading, stroking.
Her courage grew, and she lost her inhibitions. She would give in to her love for him, at least for this one night. Grace became the aggressor in their kiss, thrusting her tongue inside his mouth to taste him. Steady on her feet, she ran her hands over the hair of his chest.
Lord Alexander growled, a low sound deep in his throat. “I need to see you. All of you.” He placed one arm around her waist and pulled the garment free with the other.
Grace instinctively moved her hands to cover her breasts again, but he caught them before she could.
“Please let me see you. Let me touch you, Grace.” He kissed her eyelids, her cheeks, beneath her chin, along her neck. He cupped her breasts in his palms and she whimpered. Sensation ruled.
“You like that, do you? Tell me you like it.” He moved his head lower and lapped his tongue over her sensitive nipple.
“Yes, I like that, Lord Alexander.” She couldn’t think.
“Say my name, Grace. Call me Alex.” He completed the order by suckling her entire breast in his mouth.
Grace gripped his shoulders for balance. Her legs turned to jelly beneath her. “Alex. I like that, Alex.” She might enjoy it a bit too much. He was welcome to stop in a few years or so.
He lowered to his knees, where his eyes were directly across from the swell of her stomach. Alex placed a gentle kiss there and held his head against where her child grew, resting for a moment and holding Grace by the hips.
His tenderness overwhelmed her. Her love for him coursed through her body so fast it scared her. She felt like she might break in two if he so much as brushed a finger over her skin.
For just that moment, she felt beautiful. Loved, even.
Grace placed her hands atop his head and ran her fingers through his shaggy hair.
He moved one hand between her legs, shocking her senses when he stroked her tender flesh. Alex slid a finger inside her and she shuddered.
When she thought she would die from the pressure building internally, he stood and picked her up. He carried her to the bed and laid her carefully across the sheets, her hair fanned out over the pillows.
He removed the last of his clothing in the flickers of the candlelight. She had never seen a nude man before, and the size of him scared her. His muscled arms, the definition of his chest, those long, powerful legs. He was glorious. She had a sudden urge to paint him, just as he stood before her, but pushed it aside. That cou
ld come later.
She needed him now.
Alex came down on the bed beside her and took her face in his hands. “I will never hurt you, Grace. Don’t be afraid of me.”
It wasn’t fear but awe, but she had no voice to tell him. He kissed her again, deep and full, and his hands stroked her to a passionate peak again. He rose above her and braced his weight on his arms as he spread her legs with a knee. The tip of his manhood rested at her opening. She wanted more.
“Say my name, Grace. Call me by my name.” His voice shook with passion and need, and an edge of fear.
“Alex.” The word was a prayer on her tongue.
And he was inside her, filling her, pulsing with her. She moved her legs up to wrap about his waist and marveled that it brought him closer, deeper.
They moved as one. Her body tightened and tensed, and she would shatter to pieces if she didn’t find release soon. Alex seemed to sense her need and he quickened his pace. She moaned from the most wonderful pain.
And then the world came to a stop. She crashed over the edge and held onto him for dear life. “Alex, Alex, Alex.”
He spilled into her a moment later and collapsed on top of her, burying his head in her hair while he regained his breath.
“Oh, how I love you,” she said on a sob. She regretted the words as soon as she said them, but he didn’t react. She didn’t want to love him. It would be so much easier if she didn’t. Perhaps the pain would be lessened to know she was married to a man who could never love her in return if she felt no love for him.
Alex moved beside her and pulled her in close, her backside pressed firmly against his front. His breathing grew even, and he placed a large, protective hand over her abdomen where her baby grew.
Grace laid still and cried herself to sleep, careful not to alert him to her tears.
~ * ~
Alex brushed Grace’s hair away from her face to watch her sleep. The tears weren’t yet dry on her cheeks, so he brushed them away as well.
“Oh my sweet Grace, I love you.” His words fell on the darkness of night.
She still didn’t believe his love, even after their tender loving that night. What else must he do to convince her?
He pulled his wife closer and breathed in the fragrance of Grace and the scent of their lovemaking. One hand rested against the child growing in her belly. Their child. He already loved the baby as his own.
Alex drifted off to sleep, dreaming of a baby girl with midnight hair and eyes of ice.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Every movement she made in her sleep sent blood rushing to his groin. If Grace didn’t still soon, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from taking her again.
Not that that was such a horrible thought. Far from it.
But her movements increased in frequency, not to mention scale. She kicked a leg out and landed her foot against his shin. Something was very, very wrong. Even as he tried to wake her, she whimpered in her sleep. She was frightened. He leaned over her and shook her shoulder. “Grace, wake up.”
Her fist swung out to strike him in the face. She would have made contact with his nose if his reflexes had been slower.
Alex used a bit more force in shaking her shoulder this time. “Grace, you’re having a bad dream. Wake up for me.” His voice rose in pitch.
“Ah. No, no, NO!” Her eyes flew open and she sat up in bed, struggling against him with everything in her.
“It’s me, Grace. Alex. It’s Alex.” He held her tight to his chest, careful to keep her hands firmly locked in his fist.
She fought against him for a moment more before finally stilling in his arms. Her heartbeat slowed to a normal pace as he stroked her hair, her arms, her back.
When he pulled away from her, she still had wide eyes full of fear. “What were you dreaming about?”
She shook her head and looked away, a single tear threatening to fall.
“All right. You don’t have to tell me now. It’s all right.” He lay down in the bed again and held her close. She closed her eyes and rested her head against his shoulder, still shaking violently.
He pulled the blankets over them and wrapped her tight. “I’ll never allow you to be hurt, Grace. Never.”
Alex shut his eyes. Could he keep that promise?
~ * ~
She shivered against him, huddled under the counterpane in a cocoon of his warmth.
The nightmare had been far worse this time. When she awoke, she’d seen Barrow leaning over her, not Alex. It took several minutes for her to calm enough to recognize him as her husband and not as the man who had ravished her.
“I’ll never allow you to be hurt, Grace. Never,” Alex had said before he fell asleep again.
But how could he prevent hurting her himself? He caused her great anguish simply by not loving her, by treating her with care and tenderness, but not giving her the one thing she wanted more than anything in the world.
No, not wanted. Needed. Grace needed his love. She needed to believe he could love her, even if only half as much as she loved him.
If he couldn’t love her, who could?
She turned toward him and willed herself to sleep.
And she prayed she would not dream again.
~ * ~
Alex woke with the sunlight streaming in through the windows. He rolled over to give Grace a good morning kiss, but she’d already quit his bed. The spot where she had slept was cold to the touch. He grumbled under his breath.
He pulled on a robe before knocking at her dressing room door. The housekeeper had arranged for breakfast to be brought to them in bed. Grace was spoiling all his plans. How could a man be romantic if his wife wouldn’t comply?
Tess answered his knock, opening the door only a crack, and informed him, “My lady is already down to the breakfast room this morning, and will be delighted to see you there, sir.”
He scowled through the crack. “Be certain all her belongings are packed and ready. We leave for Somerton after breakfast. I’ll send a footman up to carry everything to the carriage.”
In his own dressing room, he wanted to dress as soon as possible and join his bride and family. “Can you not hurry with tying that deuced knot?” he asked Thomas. His beleaguered valet passed him a withering look but held his tongue. Alex sighed. “It seems you can’t.” He tried to be patient, but patience was in short supply this morning. When he was finally dressed to Thomas’s satisfaction, he went downstairs.
His family filled the breakfast room to the brim. Mama and Sophie sat on either side of Grace. While Alex was glad to see his family accept his bride, he felt a twinge of jealousy that he couldn’t sit next to her. “Good morning,, Mama. Good morning Grace.”
Grace looked at him, her expression unreadable. “Good morning Lo—Good morning, Alex.” She returned to her conversation with his mother and sister and ignored him.
He prepared a plate and sat as close to her as he could manage, across the table and down a few seats. He ignored Neil, who sat to his right, and ate his food without tasting a bite of it.
“I believe I still have some of the dressing gowns and blankets my children used when they were babies. Would you like me to have them sent to you in Somerton?” Mama asked Grace. Then she acted as though a novel idea had struck her, and not something she’d likely been planning since her discovery that Grace was with child. “Or better yet, I could travel to visit you and bring them with me. If you wouldn’t mind my company, of course.”
“Of course, Your Grace, you’ll always be welcome. I would be glad for any assistance you can give me for the baby.” Grace flushed.
Mama frowned. “Now that you have married Alex, you’re my daughter. Please, let us not be so formal. If you aren’t comfortable calling me Mama, then Henrietta will do just as well.”
“Yes, Your Grace, I’ll try to remember that. Oh, and there I go again.” Her face flushed as it screwed up in concentration. “I daresay, I have so rarely had close relationships, it daunts me to use such
informality.”
His mother patted the top of Grace’s hand. “You’ll learn.”
Char’s face lit up. “Oh, Mama, we ought to all go to Somerton Court this winter. We can be there when the baby arrives. It would be just wonderful. May we please?”
Alex chewed his baked eggs with undue force. Would his family not grant him any time alone with his wife?
Mama turned her attention to him. “Well, Charlotte, you should ask Alex and Grace. They may want some privacy.”
He bloody well did.
“That can all wait until later, Char,” Peter said from the head of the table. “It seems Alex is ready to begin their journey. He couldn’t even be bothered to eat his breakfast like a civilized man.”
True enough. Alex tried not to scowl. “Er, yes. Well. Grace, are you ready? I believe a carriage awaits us.” He shoved his chair away from the table and moved to assist her. He had planned to discuss Priscilla and Harry with her upstairs while they ate their private breakfast. Now that opportunity had been taken from him. He wished they could have discussed it before the wedding, but there’d been no time. Her aunt had whisked her away to make preparations. Devil take it. He hoped she would take the news well.
When she stood, the air carried her scent to him. He would far prefer to carry her above stairs and resume where they’d left off last night, but it would have to wait. He wanted her alone, so the carriage would have to do.
His family followed them to the door, with his sisters sniffling and simpering in their wake.
“We have only just met Grace, and you’re already taking her away from us.” One could always count on Char for a touch of drama. “It’s just dreadful, Alex. Couldn’t you stay in Town for a few more days? A week? The rest of the Season?”
“No.” He bit off the word.
Sophie took Grace by the hand. “I’ll write to you often.” The eldest Hardwicke sister pulled Grace into a ferocious hug.
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