by Mary Balogh
"God, you are so beautiful," he said unsteadily, standing to remove his own clothes.
Margaret shivered at the sight of his hard-muscled body and at the touch of his hands when he joined her on the bed, gentle at first, but seeking out unerringly the places that would make her body hum with passion. He took her hand in his, watching her through half-closed lids, and placed it against his chest. And for the first time, she began a slow and shy exploration of his body, gradually emboldened by his gasps of desire.
Thoroughly aroused by her touch, he rose up and toppled her onto her back and came down hard on top of her. Control snapped for the moment, he crashed into her, calling her name and continuing to caress her with his hands.
Margaret too cried out and arched her hips upward in order to receive him more deeply. He moved firm hands to her shoulders-a familiar gesture-as he taught her his rhythm. But there was nothing purely businesslike about this lovemaking. He began with slow, shallow strokes that teased her hips into grinding rhythmically into his, which had her panting and pleading for more.
The depth and the tempo of his thrusts increased gradually to answer her need. When he finally felt her muscles tighten and strain against him in mute appeal for release, Brampton lifted his head and gazed down at her until she opened her eyes.
"This is all for you, Meg, my wife," he said, and he thrust and held deep inside her until he felt her shudder into release and saw a look of surprise and wonder glaze her eyes. He withdrew and thrust once more, his face in the hollow of her neck, and descended with her into a world of total peace.
They clung together damply while their hearts slowed to normal beat, and then Brampton rolled to one side of her, his arms still circling her warm little body. They lay with eyes closed for several minutes.
"Tell me now, Meg," he said finally, brushing her lips with his and tightening his hold on her shoulder. "Tell me about it, my little angel."
"I loved you," she said. "I loved you so much for six years. When I used to see you and you did not notice me, I thought I could not bear it. But when I did not see you, it was even worse. And when you came to Papa and asked me to marry you. I told myself that you did not love me, that you just needed a wife and an heir. I told myself and told myself, but it still broke my heart, Richard, when I knew for certain."
He held her very close and laid his cheek on her head while her hair cascaded over his arms.
"And then I couldn't stand it anymore and I told Charlotte. And she persuaded me to dress up again as I had when we first met. I knew it was madness, Richard, but I just once wanted to see you look at me as you did when I was eighteen. Just once I wanted to know that you wanted me."
"Meg, my sweet love, why did you not just tell me?" he asked.
"How could I, my lord? I might have ended up looking very foolish, and embarrassing both myself and you."
"Oh, my little darling!"
"And then, after that first time, I couldn't stop," she said. "I wanted you so badly, Richard. You are a man. You could turn to a woman whenever you wanted. But I am a woman. I lived with dreams for six years and then I lived with disappointment. I did not mean to make you feel foolish, my lord, indeed I did not. I came to you only because I wanted you and needed you. And when you said good-bye, Richard, it was as painful for me as it was for you. I thought I would never know you in that way again." She buried her face against his shoulder.
"Meg, will you forgive me?" he whispered into her hair.
One arm crept around his neck and he had his answer.
"Is it true about the baby, little one?"
She nodded against his shoulder.
Suddenly Brampton leapt out of the bed and reached down to lift her into his arms.
"What are you doing?" she asked against his neck.
"I am taking my wife to my bed," he said decisively. "And that is where she belongs every night and all night for the rest of our lives."
He carried her through to his bedchamber and set her down on his bed, where she had never been before. He looked down at her, a smile in his eyes as he got in beside her.
"I thought I knew you, Meg," he said. "And I thought I loved my sweet, quiet little wife. I think I am going to love the little fireball just as well."
"Do you truly love me, Richard?" she asked wistfully.
"What words will convince you?" he asked, propping himself on one elbow and cupping her face with his other hand. "I love you, my darling, my love, my sweetheart, my angel."
She smiled her rare smile. "That's nice," she said.
"I think I am ready to show you my feelings again," he said, and grinned. "Actions speak much louder than words sometimes, do you not agree?"
"I would never disagree with my husband," she said demurely.
He chuckled. "I shall remind you of that, ma'am, next time you are yelling at me and looking as if you are ready to throw things."
"Ah, but we must make sure there is no next time, monsieur, n'est-ce pas?" she said huskily before his mouth silenced her again and his hands went to work on her.
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