by Kimberly Nee
Then he slid two fingers inside her, and she arched sharply into him.
He broke the kiss, breathless as he murmured, “Dear God…Emma…”
“Please…” She lifted her hips, and to her surprise, the pleasure increased tenfold. It spiraled through her, sparkling as it wove through every inch of her.
He teased her with each wonderful stroke, made that blasted ache even stronger, even worse. The sparkles twisted into flames—small flames that slowly, steadily, grew larger. White lights danced before her eyes, and when she squeezed them shut, those lights exploded into bursts of color, bright and bold.
Her muscles tightened and released. Tightened and released. Each pulse came in time with the thrust and withdrawal of his fingers, and with each caress, her breath became harder to catch, her head spun a little more. Pleasure built like a wave, drawing away from the shore to build its power, where it gathered the strength to come roaring back.
“Julian!” She couldn’t hold back her cry as the wave raced toward her, crested, and then broke. Sweet bliss filled her, her release consumed her, devoured her, left her breathless and pleading that he not stop.
The roar filled her ears, her fingernails dug hard into him, as she surrendered and let it carry her away.
Julian’s voice, husky with encouragement, broke through the roar in her ears as he urged her to savor this ecstasy she’d discovered.
She nodded with abandon, let it control her body, fill her with delight.
With a bright flash of brilliant light, she cried out again, and then Julian brought her back to earth, his fingers still working their magic, only gentler now, and she was breathless when he slid them free and bent to kiss her deeply.
Limp and helpless in his arms, she melted into him. He broke his kiss to sweep his lips over her throat, where her pulse pounded wildly.
Silk landed atop linen as he peeled away every bit of fabric covering her body and when it was her turn to undress him, a sinful wantonness filled her as she took her time baring his body. He was every bit as beautiful as she imagined, solid and firm, with dark hair spreading wide across his chest and belly. And when she came to that part of him, she wasn’t disappointed. It stood straight away from his body, rising up from a nest of dense, dark curls. Thick. Long. It might not be the prettiest thing she’d ever seen, but it was amazing all the same, and when she ran a curious finger down it, a muscle jumped in his jaw and a low groan rose to his lips.
She repeated the motion. His flesh was smooth.
And he twitched with each touch.
Her gaze rose to his face, and when she stroked him again, his jaw clenched.
He sucked in a sharp breath, only to exhale with airy relief. A muscle bulged along his jaw. His brows pulled low as if he struggled to concentrate on something behind his closed eyes. He opened his eyes, only to close them again as if it was too much effort to keep them up. A soft groan. A throaty moan. Pleasure without words.
Even someone as inexperienced as she could read his face.
His body was fascinating, with its hard planes and solid muscles. Everything about him fascinated her, and she took her time satisfying her newfound curiosity.
He let her explore him, and she took full advantage of it. Each sigh, each moan, that rose to his lips filled her with a bit more confidence, emboldened her.
His breathing grew raggedy, his chest rising and falling with great effort. The muscles in his belly tensed, rigid and hard. His hips lifted slightly in time with her strokes, and a low, throaty, moan rose to his lips. “Emma…sweetheart…you need to stop.”
She jumped as his hand shot out to snatch hers away from him, leaving her to stare dumbfounded at him. Maybe those moans weren’t pleasure. Maybe she was hurting him?
But then he grinned, and with a playful growl, flipped her onto her back, rumbling, “Vixen,” as he nudged her legs apart with his hips and then settled between her thighs.
“Do you think so?” Now that she knew he wasn’t in pain, she draped her arms about his neck, biting the inside of her cheek as that part of him brushed against her. Even that felt good. Pleasure fluttered through her, like the ripples on the lake when she skipped a stone across it. She shivered at the rush of tingles rippling through her, stronger with each pass.
The way he looked at her made her shivers stronger still. His eyes had darkened until they were more gray than blue. They were the most beautiful eyes she’d ever seen, fringed by thick dark lashes that were, frankly, sinfully long for a man. And when he looked at her that way, with those heavy-lidded eyes, she wanted to pinch herself to make certain this was her reality and not just some wonderful dream.
“Absolutely.” He slid a hand between them, and she stiffened at the sudden cramping twisting her innards. She breathed deep as it worsened, and all romantic thoughts about his beautiful eyes flew from her brain as the last bits of pleasure simply dropped away. This wasn’t wonderful. It wasn’t wonderful at all. This hurt. Badly. “Oh!”
Tears stung her eyes as the cramping strengthened. He was tearing her in half, ripping her insides to shreds at the same time. She braced her hands against Julian’s chest, trying to push him off her. “No, wait—” Her voice caught in her throat. Dear God, was she being punished for surrendering to him, for giving into her lust?
Then something inside her popped and the pain ebbed as Julian slid inside her and went still. He groaned low in his throat and dipped to rest his forehead against hers. His voice was just above a whisper. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”
Her eyes felt wet and she blinked back her tears. Was that supposed to happen? He seemed to think so, and she didn’t think he would hurt her unless he had no choice. Her throat felt so tight and clogged, and she had to clear it to say, “It’s all right, Julian.”
And it was. And so was she. Now that the cramping was gone, something wonderful happened. He shifted, and the pleasure returned. It started out as those small ripples, but then grew. She smiled. No, this wasn’t punishment. Not at all. Then he moved, and fire filled her. A wonderful, delicious fire, indeed. Oh, dear Lord…what a wonderful fire it was. It crackled with electricity unlike anything she’d ever felt.
He rose onto his forearms, his expression strangely serious, as if he was trying to figure out a ship plan he didn’t quite understand. Was she doing something wrong? Her body seemed to fall into a natural rhythm with his, rising and falling to meet each delightful thrust. It was as easy as dancing, only far more enjoyable, so why didn’t he smile?
“Julian?” She didn’t want to break the moment, not when she’d dreamed of this for so many years. But at the same time, she didn’t want her inexperience ruining it for him, either. “Is something the matter?”
Her words were hard to form, as the pleasure grew spicier. It swirled through her, twisted and curved to fill her just as he filled her. Her thoughts were harder to hold onto, when she just wanted to throw her arms over her head and surrender to the desire coursing through her once more.
A slow smile spread over his face. His hips slowed but didn’t stop. “Everything is just fine.” He sounded almost as breathless as she felt.
“But you look so serious.” Her breath hitched as a particularly sharp dart of pleasure speared her. It was sharp enough that her toes curled, and she sucked her bottom lip between her teeth.
A husky chuckle rose to his lips even as he shuddered against her and then thrust. “I’m trying to delay the inevitable for as long as possible, but I’m not going to last much longer.”
He dipped forward to capture her lips in a long, lingering, soulful kiss. His thrusts were slow and steady, the bliss rolling in like a wave to engulf her and threaten to sweep her away.
She tightened her hold on him, her fingernails digging into his bared shoulders as he rose onto his forearms again. The shift sent him deeper still, and she cried out at the delight coursing through her. Her eyelids felt so heavy, but she didn’t want to close them, didn’t want to miss the look of ecstasy on his face as
they reached the pinnacle together.
Julian groaned, his thrusts faster now, and the knots in her belly returned, tighter and sweeter than before.
Her heart hammered against her ribs, fire filled her body. His name rose to her lips, but before she could force it out, he shivered and arched into her with such force it tore all words from her lips and all thought from her mind.
He shuddered against her. He pulled back, and then just as suddenly, arched against her, growling his pleasure into her neck.
He sank into her, his breathing rough and uneven on her skin. Her eyelids refused to stay open, sliding shut as she threaded her fingers through his hair. Everything just felt so wonderful and so right, even the soft patter of rain on the windows was just perfect.
Julian groaned as he flopped onto his back, one arm flung up over his head, and the linens rustled with the motion. Emma shivered at the loss of him, reaching to draw the sheet to her shoulders.
He slid an arm beneath her and curled it to draw her into his side. With a slow smile, she curved into the solid planes of his body. This was every bit as wonderful as she’d imagined. Although that damp, sticky spot on the sheet between them wasn’t quite so wonderful.
Julian’s breath was a soft caress on her neck, but she didn’t hear him draw it. Then his voice came in a gentle murmur, “Are you all right?”
She nodded, her words caught in a lump halfway up her throat. Would he tease her for her tears? For her foolish sentimentality? Would he think her just as foolish? She blinked rapidly, but it didn’t help. The tears slid from the outer corners of her eyes to slip silently into her hair.
He rose up. “Emma?”
She cleared her throat. “I’m fine.”
His brow furrowed. “Are you crying?”
“No.”
“Emma.”
“Fine. Yes, but I don’t know why. The pain wasn’t that bad, and it’s long gone now.” She swiped at the annoying moisture leaking from her eyes. The last thing she wanted was to cry. Why didn’t the idiot tears just go away?
He bent to her, his lips brushing hers. “There was no avoiding that, unfortunately.” He withdrew from her, rolling onto his back. “You should only know how many times I’ve imagined this, Emma.”
“Have you now?” she asked, turning as she faced him. Her hip hit the cold, wet spot, and she fought off a grimace, not wanting anything as silly as her being fussy to spoil this moment.
“Oh, God, yes.” His fingers lazily skimmed over her shoulder to send a flutter through her.
She shivered as she nestled her head against his chest. His heartbeat sounded low and strong, and she trailed her fingers through the trail of dark hair. It was as soft as it looked, almost silky to the touch. A gentle drowsiness poured into her, and she didn’t want to move. Ever. This was perfect. Every bit as perfect as she’d always imagined it would be. “I have, too. Since that day by the wishing well.”
As soon as she said it, she wanted to take the words back, for his expression changed, darkness sliding into his eyes. Where he’d been at ease, he now stiffened against her, his voice losing its softness as he said, “There is something we need to discuss about that, Em.”
Her heart skipped a beat. Was he finally going to tell her the truth about what happened that night at Cheltenham? And was she ready to hear what that truth might be?
Julian pulled away, keeping the sheet wrapped about his waist. “I cannot have children, Emma. Or, more aptly, I will not. That was always my hesitation in asking to court you, or in asking for your hand. I know you would want children, and I can’t give them to you.”
“Why?” She stared down at him, smoothing the quilts she wrapped about her upper body, for lack of anything better to do. It was a bizarre conversation for a couple to have on their wedding night. But it must be important to him, or else he wouldn’t have brought it up.
“I can’t take the risk, Em. Passing on any hint of madness. I won’t do it.”
She pressed her lips together as she chewed on his words. No children. She never thought about the possibility that she would never bear children of her own. That’s what she was supposed to do. It was what she wanted to do.
And now what?
She gazed over at him. His eyes had darkened to a slate gray. “I see. So, this is our one time and one time only?”
He shook his head. “No. If you wish, I’d be more than willing to share in a true marriage bed, as long as you are aware of the precautions.”
“Precautions?” She felt like such an idiot for asking so many questions, but they couldn’t be helped. “Have you taken any?”
“I did, and you needn’t worry about it.”
Her nose wrinkled. “It had something to do with that wet spot, didn’t it?”
“It’s nothing you need worry about.” He didn’t laugh, and although he did smile, it was a weak smile. “Trust me.”
“Of course.” How could she not trust him? It didn’t even seem possible. She trusted him as much as she trusted anyone. And yet, she wasn’t so sure he trusted her at all.
She stared up at the ceiling. There was a water stain in the corner by the windows. How long had it been there? And more importantly, why was she even noticing it now? She shouldn’t be thinking about the peeling wallpaper in that corner, or how dark and dingy the stain’s borders were. She should be swirling through the wonderment of being so close to another living being, not hoping the rain didn’t make the stain worse.
The candles’ flames lowered, flickering with each tiny draft that leaked around the windowpanes. A clock chimed in the darkness. Midnight. No wonder she was so tired. It’d been such a long day. Silence stretched between them, uncomfortable and thick, and yet her mind, normally whirling with so many words, couldn’t piece together enough to break it.
Finally, a few words managed to tumble into place, although her voice cracked as she broke the silence with a soft, “What happens now? Are you still leaving for Boston in the coming days?”
He didn’t reply. Perhaps he’d fallen asleep?
“No.” The mattress made a rustling sound as he rolled onto his side and gazed down at her. “I’m going to send Mr. Carter off to my meeting with Percival. He’ll do fine, and it leaves me free to sail to St. Kitts.”
“So Garrett told you.”
“He told me.”
“Was that before or after he hit you?” She sat up and leaned over to brush her fingertips over the black and blue mark on his cheekbone.
“I honestly don’t recall. They happened around the same time.”
“Are you certain Mr. Carter is capable for such a task?”
“He’s more than capable. He’ll have my notes and my drawings, and he knows Chelten as well as I do. I only hope Percival isn’t a puss about it. The sooner Carter wins him over, the happier we’ll all be. The last thing I want to hear is that Percival’s decided he’d rather have Pennell build his ships.”
She breathed a soft sigh of relief. At least they would go to St. Kitts together. Somehow, she had the feeling Julian would have made her remain at Stonebridge whilst he ventured up to Boston.
“Have you ever been to St. Kitts?” she asked, looking over and smiling at him.
“No. I hear it is much like paradise.”
“It is. I think you’ll like it. Warm air, warm oceans, delicious food, and even a bit of society, if you’re so interested.”
“I thought you didn’t like being there.”
“I don’t. At least, I didn’t. But that was before. I’ve never been there with you.”
To her surprise, he rolled over atop of her, pinning her beneath him. He said nothing, but gazed down at her as if he was seeing her for the first time. “My wife,” he whispered.
Before she could reply, before she could even think, his lips came down onto hers. This was her wedding night, and she wanted nothing to mar it.
Chapter Seventeen
WHEN EMMA AWOKE THE NEXT MORNING, she was alone. She waited for Amanda
to open the door and then remembered she wasn’t in her room at Stonebridge. She was in the cozy clapboard house on Witherspoon. Julian’s house.
Our house.
The room was chilly, but her dressing gown lay draped over the foot of the bed, and she dove for it, bundling herself in it to ward off the cold. She yelped when her feet touched the floor.
“Mrs. McCallister?” Emma froze at the familiar voice and smiled as she caught sight of Amanda on the other side of the doorway. Well-oiled hinges meant no squeak, which made Amanda even stealthier than normal.
“Amanda? What are you doing here?”
“Mr. McCallister thought you might need me, so he sent a carriage to Stonebridge.” Amanda came into the room and moved right to the trunk at the foot of the bed. “You need a proper wardrobe.”
“There will be time enough for that when we return from St. Kitts.”
“I suppose, but still—” Amanda dove into the trunk, rummaging about until she proclaimed, “Here it is!” She emerged with a day dress of pale green.
“We’re leaving in a few days,” Emma added as Amanda helped her dress. “I don’t have time to do much in the way of shopping for furnishings.”
“Perhaps I could say something to Mrs. McKenzie and she could—”
“Thank you, but no. I think that’s something I should do for myself.”
“What is something you should do for yourself?”
Both women spun about as Julian came into the room. “Mr. McCallister, you really should knock. What if she was undressed?” Amanda scolded.
Emma held her breath, waiting to see how Julian would respond to being scolded by a maid.
His jaw tightened, but then the tension eased and he smiled. “You’re right. I should have knocked. Forgive me. I’m far too used to this being a bachelor’s quarters.”
“It’s all right. I’m perfectly presentable.” Emma stepped away from Amanda. “What is it?”
“I had the rest of your trunks brought to the harbor this morning. The Amelia will be ready to leave with the evening tide.”