Aislinn pushed her sister gently into the hall and toward the stairs, pets in tow.
“Real married couples share a special dance, Lia.” Aislinn’s voice echoed in the marble corridor. “To which no one else is invited. Someday, you’ll understand.”
Chapter Twenty-six
Blushing, Felicity shut and locked the double doors to drown out her nieces’ chattering. Hands clenched to a chair at the table, she watched her new husband by the fire. He stirred the logs with a poker. The movement tugged the thin fabric of his shirt, showcasing broad shoulders and rippling back muscles.
“Ready for our special dance, princess?” he asked without turning around. The amusement in his voice would’ve eased her nerves, if not for the husky edge behind it.
Guilt for her lies nibbled at the edges of her soul. If she told him a little about the patrons … made it seem like she’d just found out…. “Um. Nick. I-I thought we might talk for a moment. Before we go to bed.”
He tilted his head. The firelight cast his handsome profile in bold relief. “Mmm. Bed. Been looking forward to that all day.”
Felicity forced her fingers to release the chair and stepped closer to the fire. Twisting her hands in the apron, she steeled her resolve. “Each in our separate chambers, of course.”
Upon laying the poker aside, Nick turned to face her, rolling the sleeves down over his forearms. “I’ve been meaning to speak with you about that.” He pursed those sensual lips, taking Felicity’s mind to places better left to fantasies. “You see, this alone”—he held up his left pinky so his wedding ring glinted in the light— “isn’t going to convince our upcoming guests that our marriage is real. Especially if I’m sleeping in a playroom two flights up from you.”
He came to stand so close that her chin leveled with his chest. He’d taken off his vest and cravat and she couldn’t help but notice the tiny glistening beads of sweat where his coffee colored shirt gaped opened.
“Our guests,” she mumbled, licking her lips at the scent of him. “Precisely what I need to talk to you about.”
“Ah.” He skimmed his knuckles along her face, igniting all of the nerve endings beneath her skin. Then he cupped her chin and lifted it so their eyes met. “We’re on the same page at last.”
“Not quite. You’re rattling me,” she managed, feeling dizzy as his fingers curved around her jaw. She was so captivated by the way his blonde hair grazed his shoulders and shimmered against his dark clothes. If he kissed her, she’d lace her fingers through those waves and never have the presence of mind to confess anything.
His mouth curved on an almost smile. “We have to present a united front for the workers. I don’t want these men thinking they’re walking into a counterfeit marriage. I’d have my hands full fighting off the wolves each day. Since they’re going to be in the castle with us, and Lia and Aislinn are back in their rooms on the second floor, we should both be close to them. Therefore, you and I must share a room. Not only that, but when we’re out in the open, we must kiss, hold hands. All those things that lovers do spontaneously. We must be convincing in our affection. Even if, behind closed doors, I’m sleeping on the floor and we’re married in name only. Surely you can see the logic in this.”
Felicity’s stomach jumped. Over the past few weeks, they’d indulged in sweet fiery kisses while hidden in the shadows of the courtyard and the dark corners of the castle. But the thought of touching and embracing her groom spontaneously and publicly dug a nervous pit into the center of her core. That would make everything real. And sharing her room with him … he would see more of her than she was willing to show. Her finger tumbled across her scar. How could she allow him to look upon her most grotesque shortcoming when she herself had never once been able to face it in a mirror?
Now’s the time, you ninny. Tell him the truth about the patrons … it will solve everything. He won’t want to bed you after that.
She bit her cheek. But he might be so angry he’ll leave…
Without Nick, Landrigan would assure that her past would be exposed. And having no husband to stand up for her, her girls would be taken away. Felicity trembled at the nightmarish possibilities which could await them in an orphanage considering her own experience.
Nick held her closer, no doubt misreading her shivers as shyness over her deformity. If only her pride were all that was at stake.
“It’s all right.” Pressing hot lips against her forehead, he wove his fingers through her hair and stroked her scalp. “You don’t have to decide this instant. We’ll spend some time being affectionate for the next two days—to make our moments seem natural. Practice makes perfect, after all. And if you consider my proposal about our sleeping arrangements with an open mind, I think it will make sense to you.” He kissed her nose. “Now, I’ve spent more time with pets, servants, and children tonight than my bride. Let’s have that dance.” He strode to the phonograph, leaving her bereft of his arms and that earthy, masculine scent she couldn’t get enough of.
The tinkling strains of music began again.
“A minuet with just two performers?” Felicity asked, swallowing her bewilderment. “Seems rather unconventional.”
“Which is why it’s the perfect choice for us.” Nick grinned.
Her heart hammered as he bowed while holding her gaze.
She forced a curtsy and fanned her apron—fully aware that he was seducing her. Helpless to stop it. “I’m out of practice.”
“I’m a patient partner.” He held out his palm.
She reached for him and her cheeks fired at the feel of her flesh sliding over his. How was it this man could bring her to tremble like a nervous virgin after all the fornications she’d committed? It had to be his artist’s touch … making something surprising and new out of even the most damaged medium. She curled their fingers together, wondering at the power hidden within those hands.
For some time, they danced without a word—twirling and bowing, stepping circles around one another, their eyes locked in mutual admiration. They were still moving when the music stopped. It didn’t dawn on Felicity that their feet were keeping rhythm with the fire’s crackling flames, or that the shadows around them had multiplied to an abundance of faceless spectators. Only when the fire sputtered its last spark and left just the soft lights overhead, did they stop.
They watched one another, breaths accelerating with each passing moment.
Felicity started to back away, but Nick lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed her knuckles as he coaxed her closer. “Your eyes…”
She thought upon her skin, how it tightened each night as the cream’s potency began to fade. Though he’d already seen her without the wrinkles, it must be shocking to witness the actual transition for the first time.
She touched the firmness at her temples. “At least you know what I’ll look like in twenty years.” Her half-hearted joke fell flat as Nick pressed their bodies tight together, her breasts flush to his ribcage. She felt his desire against her stomach, a potent need in direct contrast to the tender concern on his face.
“That’s not what I meant.” His hands gripped her waist, sending pulses of longing through her hips and thighs. “They’re runny, just like Lia said. You’re crying.”
“Am I?” She touched her cheeks, stunned to find hot tears streaming there.
“Are you disappointed in how things turned out today?” he asked, watching them glide down.
“No.” She pressed a finger to his lips. “You’ve made everything perfect,” she whispered. Suddenly realizing what he’d said about Lianna, she dropped her hand. “Wait. Lia told you my eyes were runny? When?”
Nick’s jaw twitched. “After you went to the greenhouse tonight, the sprite and I had a talk about her walking in on you and Donal the morning I was going to leave.” His tender expression hardened. “She said your dress was torn when she saw you, and you were playing a game with the tea’s steam that made your eyes run. Donal ripped your dress. He made you cry.”
&nbs
p; Desperate to free her conscience of at least one deception, Felicity nodded.
Nick started to let her go, but she forced his hands to stay on her waist by clamping his wrists.
“What are you going to do?” she asked.
“Teach that Irish maggot a lesson he’ll never forget.” His gray eyes darkened to a storm and branded his sincerity into her soul.
A jolt of fear shot through her. If Nick went to see Landrigan tonight, he might get hurt. Or in the least, find out the truth about the guests. “You don’t even know where he lives.”
“Clooney will show me.”
“Please don’t do this. You can deal with him when he comes to sign the contract. But you must be diplomatic. He’s Binata’s only family, and Lia is fond of him. He was merely trying to humiliate me. Once he saw my scar … he was too disgusted to do anything improper.”
If possible, the storm brewed even more violently in Nick’s gaze. He attempted again to break his hold from her waist, but Felicity tightened her grip.
“What?” she asked. “You plan to leave me alone on our honeymoon for some foolish misunderstanding?”
He hissed through clenched teeth. “Misunderstanding? He humiliated you. Violated you. I’m your husband. It’s my duty to defend your honor.”
Her honor. How amazing that he believed her worthy of such a charge. “You … are so incredibly wonderful.” Overcome with emotion, she eased her arms around his nape.
He stiffened, a suspicious frown tugging his mouth. “I’m not wonderful. I’m furious. What are you doing?”
“Keeping you here. I’ve been sampling Cook’s delicious frosting. All you need is a taste of something sweet to curb your ire.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “It will take more than dessert to distract me from my mission.”
“That depends upon how it is served.” Drawing from seduction techniques she thought she’d shelved forever, she stood on her tiptoes. Her fingers wound in his silky hair and pulled his head down to press his lips to hers. She moved her tongue’s tip across his chin then his jaw and ear with soft, sensual pulses, feasting on the saltiness of his sweat.
“I can’t taste it yet,” he murmured, his hands sliding to her hips. His fingernails clenched her buttocks and belied his defiance.
Determined to crush his resolve, she returned to his face and gently nudged his lips open with her tongue, savoring him in slow, pleading swaths. She dropped one hand between them. Her fingers curled around him over his trousers, learning that hard, needy part like she had longed to in the lookout post.
He gasped into her mouth.
She once she should be ashamed to use talents honed during her walk as a courtesan. But Nick was her husband. He was bound to her. Committed to protect her. He trembled with delight beneath her practiced touch. And for the first time in her life, she cared about the man she was pleasing. Which made it a delight for her, too.
She deepened the kiss, sucking on his tongue, drawing him into her mouth—into her fantasy.
That was all it took.
Cursing, he burst into a blur of movement. He locked her arms around his neck and before Felicity could react, had wrapped her legs around his waist and carried her to the table. A chair scraped the floor as he flung it out of the way with his boot.
“Say you want my touch.” His voice rasped as his fingers gouged into her hips—a painful sensation, but not at all unpleasant. “I need to hear you say it.”
“Yes, I want it,” she shot back against his lips, hardly able to speak at all, his kisses making her drunk.
Dishes clattered as he cleared a place behind her and slid her onto the table. In the next moment he was gripping under her arms to move her with him so they’d both be on the table, supported by the wooden planks as he wedged between her legs.
She gasped at his weight melting into her body, starving for it. His mouth torched her skin, sliding over her chin and neck, then up to her lips once more. Their hips moved in perfect synchrony, so like the butterflies in the instant before flight.
Her hands became desperate—tearing at his clothes in a vital bid for contact. Yet even in the heat of passion, he took care not to expose her scar, trailing his fingers over her breasts and nipples, keeping the layers of fabric which hid her from the world between them.
His consideration only aroused her more. She dragged her palms along his muscled chest, flush with his warm skin. His heartbeat was rampant—an explosion barely contained by his ribs.
For a moment, her reasoning revisited as she opened her eyes and remembered where they were. The servants all had keys … anyone could walk in on them.
But he consumed her mouth and any attempt at protest. She’d lost control of the seduction and no longer cared. Her palms skimmed his lower back, sculpting the firm muscles of his hips to pull him hard against her.
He moaned. One hand tangled in her braids while the other lifted her skirts and thrust them aside. His finger deftly opened the tapes of her lace trimmed drawers, finding that most sensitive place that every other man had neglected, the pearl which ached and begged to be discovered. With just one touch, he sparked a slow, rich burn in her blood.
Whimpering, she arched into him—a wanton bid for more.
A pained expression crossed his face, as if he felt the urgency of her need within his own depths. Each stroke of his finger was patient and meticulous, building upon the smoldering embers with an escalating rhythm. His mouth slanted to cover her ear, his breath scorching as he spoke. “This is how it will always be with us. Your desire, your need, your pleasure … becomes my own.”
Triggered by the beautiful promise and the skill of his touch, something caught inside her, like a parched forest lit by a flare of incandescent lightning. She smoldered hot and bright then combusted as a halo of white erupted behind her closed eyes. So unexpected and thrilling was the sensation, she cried out.
The sound reverberated off the walls.
Nick froze and glanced up at the door, jaw clenched. “Felicity, love. Did you lock the door?”
“The servants,” she replied weakly, blinking. “They have keys.”
He cursed and pushed her skirt in place over her thighs.
She refused to let him up. Her fingers tangled in his hair and in answer, he propped himself on his elbows and kissed her gently. She was wrapped within a fog of woozy ecstasy. Her limbs floated, as if her entire body drifted atop a placid lake. Yet just as every nerve and bone relaxed and bobbed gently atop the fray, her heart hammered a staccato rhythm in her chest. Such a conflicted and exquisite feeling—this blend of serenity and exhilaration. Gratitude swelled in her heart, that he would do this for her when she’d offered so little to him.
They laid there for long drawn out minutes, sharing kisses, Nick’s skin hot beneath her hands, his heart a rapid drumbeat against her chest. She’d have to be a fool not to see: her husband was holding back to let her bask in her afterglow, all the while fighting a battle within.
“Nick,” she whispered.
He pressed his forehead to hers, groaning. “I want to give you so much more. All of me.”
“Then let us retire upstairs.”
He drew back. “Upstairs…?”
“Yes.” Still trying to catch her breath, she smiled—a promise.
He rolled to the floor and helped her straighten her skirts. A feral smile twitched his lips as he scooted her to the table’s edge. He stood between her legs, hugging her against him. “You’ll not regret it,” he whispered in her ear, his lips nibbling her lobe.
She tucked her chin over his shoulder, was just about to snuggle into his neck when her peripheral caught some movement on the underside of the door. Several shadows seeped in slowly through the cracks and floated toward the phonograph. They came together in the silhouette of a man then burst apart, fluttering like butterflies.
Her mouth gaped as they vanished in one blink.
Jasper. She shoved Nick away. Dropping her feet to the floor, she backed toward t
he double doors.
“Felicity … wait. No. You’ve got that look in your eye.”
She sputtered, “I—I’m sorry. I gave you the wrong impression. I meant I’m ready to go to bed. My bed, alone. That’s why I want to go upstairs. I’m suddenly very tired.”
He studied her, narrowing his gaze. “Two minutes ago, you fell over the brink of bliss, and now you’re going to shut yourself away in your room——two floors down from me—isolated from the man who took you there.”
Felicity struggled to reason things out in her mind. Her brother’s spirit must have drifted into the room at this very moment, in search of the phonograph. He’d heard the music and came to see why it stopped. She needed to go to the tower to check on him but had to be sure Nick wouldn’t follow.
She paused at the threshold and opened the doors. “I am so grateful. But also tired. I’d like to walk you to the playroom.”
Nick scowled. “So, you’re shutting me in my room.” He cast a glance to the pine sideboard on the other side of the table as he shoved one half of his shirt tail into his trousers. “Is it that you’re afraid to leave me down here with the laudanum? Perhaps you should hide the bottles elsewhere, since I can’t be trusted.”
“Stop that! I would never have agreed to this marriage if I didn’t have faith in you. I simply need to know you’re not going after Landrigan tonight. I want you tucked safely into bed.”
“And you’re planning to do the tucking?” He looked so appealing in his grumpiness, with his hair unkempt and his clothes disheveled where her hands had run amuck.
Felicity battled to hold her resolve. She held out a hand. “I’ll give you a goodnight kiss at the door.”
The fulfilled throb between her thighs belied her nonchalance. He’d touched her in a way no other man had ever cared to. And she wanted more. She wanted to shatter in the apex of the holocaust again … but this time she wanted to give Nick all he’d given so freely—to take him with her. But it wasn’t to be. Not tonight.
Her groom flipped off the electric lights, casting them both in utter darkness and shutting down her fantasies.
The Glass Butterfly Page 28