by Amy Sandas
Unfortunately, when he entered the dining room, he was greeted by a blushing maid who informed him that his bride had been waylaid by estate business and would not be joining him.
Braden briefly suspected she might be avoiding his company. Then he shook his head in amusement at the unlikely possibility.
As lady of the house, and obviously a very competent and respected one, his bride clearly had a great deal of responsibility that she took very seriously. It was a good thing she had something to keep her busy. He would have been at a total loss if he’d been expected to behave as a doting husband for all hours of the day.
Of course, that meant he’d have to find something else to fill his time.
Later that night in his room, he sat pensively before the fire, sipping a glass of whisky. His gaze kept travelling to the connecting door between their bedrooms. More than once he considered opening it himself, but he held back.
Despite the fact that his body was already tense and hard from just the thought of having his lovely bride in his bed again, he could understand if she was reluctant to join him so soon after her initiation to lovemaking. He figured he could be patient.
But as the hour grew steadily later, he accepted with a weight of disappointment that she wasn’t going to come. Removing the robe he wore over his loose-fitting trousers, he tossed it aside and turned down the lights. When only one lamp remained lit beside the bed, he heard the distinct snick of a latch releasing as the door connecting their bedrooms opened.
His bride had come to him after all.
Chapter Seven
The door closed quietly behind her, but she did not come any farther into the room. Once again, she wore the dark robe knotted tightly around her narrow waist. The hem of her white nightgown brushed the tops of her bare feet.
As Braden imagined untying the sash of her robe and loosening her nightgown, anticipation flared bright and hot through his blood. Lust—sharp and achingly sweet—rushed to his groin, pulling his body tight.
But she did not approach him.
He searched her face and saw stoic resolve in the set of her chin and press of her full mouth—not what one would hope to see in a lover’s countenance. Was she simply nervous as she had been last night?
Holding her gaze, he slowly approached her. His body was already taut with sensual need. Though Braden had never been one to deny his own desires, he would take things slow again tonight. For her and the passion he knew she’d unleash.
When he stood before her, he took a deep breath and inhaled the scent of fresh soap and warm vanilla. Her eyes flickered in the dim light, revealing variances of shadow and light that seemed a reflection of the woman herself. Subtle contradictions. Darkness and light. Pride and vulnerability.
She had come to him freely but her inner disquiet was clear to see. He hoped she knew she could retreat at any time, change her mind and go back through that door. But he also hoped that once he touched her, she would want to stay.
“I didn’t know if I would see you tonight,” he said in a thick murmur, his voice already weighted with the desire running through him.
Her gaze dropped to his mouth, then bounced up to his eyes. There was something uncertain in her gaze, as though she warred with herself. The thick fall of her lashes swept over her cheeks as she replied, “I apologize for not being available today. There were things I needed to do.”
Braden lifted his hand to lightly brush the backs of his fingers over the curve of her cheek down to her jaw. “I understand.”
She lifted her chin to meet his gaze. Desire swirled deep and heavy in her eyes. Her lips parted softly and he couldn’t resist brushing his thumb over the lower curve.
“Braden.”
His name murmured in her soft, melodic voice sounded both gently chiding and subtly pleading.
It was all he needed. Slipping his hand beneath the fall of her hair, he cupped her nape. Drawing her forward, he lowered his head, bringing their mouths together.
The instant their lips touched, the kiss seared him. He made an involuntary sound in his throat and stepped even closer, needing to feel the full length of her body pressing to his. But it wasn’t enough. With another sound of frustration, he swept his arm beneath her legs and lifted her against his chest.
Her arms wrapped around his neck as her mouth opened against his, taking in his thrusting tongue, allowing him to taste her fully.
Braden carried her quickly to his bed, lowering his body atop hers as his kisses delved deep. He claimed her mouth as he wished to claim her body—with powerful strokes and a demanding rhythm.
With one arm curved beneath her neck, he smoothed his free hand down the side of her body, seeking the firm mound of her breast, the narrow inward curve of her waist, and the flare of her hips. Her fingers dug into his shoulders and the taut muscles of her thigh tensed beneath his palm as her legs shifted restlessly beneath him, trying to part and allow him to settle between them even as his weight pinned her clothing to the mattress.
With a guttural moan, he lifted himself away from her to tug at the sash of her robe. He parted the edges in reckless haste, wanting only to touch the skin beneath. The thin white material of her nightgown barely concealed the shadows of her peaked nipples and the dark curls between her legs.
Covering one breast, he rubbed an insistent circle, loving how her nipple hardened against his palm. When he lifted his hand, she arched her back and clutched at his bare shoulders so tightly he felt the furrow of her fingernails digging into his skin.
Braden dropped his head to her breast, taking the peak in his mouth as he swirled his tongue, wetting the material until it clung to her skin. As he shifted his attention to her other breast, he grasped a handful of cotton, dragging the material up her legs.
She bent one knee and pressed her foot against the mattress to lift her hips toward him, mindlessly seeking contact. He’d never been with a lover so desirous, so intently needful.
It was shudderingly sexy.
“Naked.” The one word was all he managed to force from his tight chest, but it was enough.
As he leaned away from her, she quickly pulled her arms from her robe while he grasped her nightgown. She stretched her arms over her head and he raised the garment up along her body, uncovering her delectable form. On a wicked impulse, he left the nightgown tangled around her wrists with her arms still extended overhead.
Her skin glowed golden in the dim lamplight. Soft, feminine curves were in perfect balance with the toned muscles of a woman accustomed to physical activity.
Blood surged to his groin in a painful rush. Forcing himself to look away from the stunning sight of her perfect body laid out in carnal offering, he shifted his attention to her face, wanting to see the light of desire in her gaze.
But just as they had been last night, her eyes were tightly closed.
Braden paused, wondering at her reluctance to join her gaze with his. His ardor cooled as he considered the possibility she might not be as engaged in the act as he was.
But she had come to him.
And as he looked down at her, he could see the swift rise and fall of her chest as she breathed through flaring nostrils. Her nipples were peaked in want of attention, her belly trembled, and her thighs clenched. She was aroused and needful.
Yet she wouldn’t look at him.
There was nothing Braden enjoyed more than making love to a woman. He reveled in the myriad details of the act—a deep, groaning sigh or gasp of surprise, the smell of sweat on a woman’s skin, the look in her eyes when he entered her.
But making love to his bride was proving to be nothing like his prior experiences.
Her body responded with passion and abandon, arching beautifully beneath his hand. Her nipples peaked for the swirl of his tongue and her lips parted to gasp for every swift breath.
Her body instinctively understood the pleasure he wanted to give her and was more than receptive. But the woman kept the deepest parts of herself away from him when sh
e withheld her intimate gaze.
Reaching out, he caressed her low belly with the lightest touch of his fingertips, silently urging her to look at him.
Her hips rocked subtly upward, seeking greater contact, and his cock pulsed in response.
His touch drifted higher, circling her navel, exploring the ridges of her rib cage, teasing the sensitive length of her inner arms.
She drew her bottom lip in between her teeth as her spine began to undulate gently. Though there was nothing stopping her from doing so, she did not free her hands from her nightgown and she did not lower her arms. Her acceptance of the submissive and vulnerable position sent another sharp rush of poignant lust through Braden.
As he brought his lightly drifting fingertips back down the side of her throat and across her collarbone, she arched again, lifting her breasts in offering. Desire coiled hot and thick inside him, but he purposely avoided touching her breasts beyond a delicate sweep of his thumb along the inner curve as he slid his hand down her sternum, over her flat stomach to the thatch of curls that guarded her sex.
As he rested his palm there, still not touching the sensitive flesh beneath, her breath became fitful and she turned her face against her arm. Her thighs tensed and released as her hips lifted slightly off the mattress.
Rising to his knees, he held himself on a stiff arm propped beside her. He gently slid his other hand against her jaw to turn her face up to his. Her stunning features were tense and beautiful, and with a soft growl of hunger, he lowered his mouth to hers.
Her lips parted beneath his on a harsh and ragged sigh as his tongue plunged into her warm, sweet mouth. She kissed him, thrusting her tongue against his, as though she’d been starving for his taste.
Braden had intended to be gentle with that kiss, to coax her to a greater response, to ready her for what was next. But the woman was already there. Her kiss demanded more of him and he gave it with deep thrusts of his tongue and elegant scrapes of his teeth. When his body began to shake and the arm holding him up began to weaken, he withdrew only to take one of her breasts deep into his mouth. The deep suckling as he rolled her nipple against his tongue caused her to moan—a lovely sound that vibrated through his blood.
His entire being hummed with the need to bury himself in her heat, but the greater desire to pleasure her until she shook held him in check.
Releasing her breast with a wet, luscious sound, he lowered himself between her legs and pressed his open mouth to the taut plane of her belly.
And then lower as he eased his arms beneath her thighs and his shoulders spread her thighs wide around him. He slid one hand beneath her buttocks while splaying the other over her abdomen as he lifted her to his mouth, claiming her with the erotic kiss before she could guess his intention.
The sound she made as he covered her heated flesh with his mouth tempted a drop of moisture from the tip of his erection. The taste of her was intoxicating. The lush roll of her hips as he slid his tongue between her folds caused a spike in his desire. He couldn’t stop himself from pressing his cock into the mattress beneath him, needing the delicious friction.
Holding her between his hands, he devoured her sex with long, languid licks and deep, drawing pulls of his lips until her thighs trembled and her back bowed with need. The sounds coming from her throat were thick and lovely. He looked up the length of her body and the sight of her parted lips and trembling breasts seared into his mind.
He wanted desperately to meld his gaze with hers, to see what she was feeling in every flicker of her green eyes, but they remained closed. Even when he sent her over the edge with the insistent flutter of his tongue over her clitoris. Her hands suddenly fisted in her nightgown and her jaw clenched tight as her climax spread through her body, making her limbs shake and her belly tremble.
His own need greater than he’d ever experienced, he rose over her to press his blunt tip against her sex, where he could feel the receding pulses of her release.
Only then did she slide her hands free of her tangled nightgown to wrap her arms tightly around his shoulders as she curved her face into his neck.
He slid into her with one long thrust, her tightness eased by her body’s slick heat. The moment he felt the remnants of her orgasm squeezing his length deep inside, he shuddered from head to toe. Withdrawing and thrusting in fierce plunging strokes, he rocked her body and drew gasping moans from her lips. But she met every drive of his hips with an arch of her spine as her nails dug into his shoulders and her legs hugged tight around his waist.
As her inner muscles clenched around him in another orgasm, he ground his teeth to hold back his own, wanting to remain inside her while she came. But as soon as her body began to relax, he gave a final thrust before pulling out and spending himself in a shuddering, mind-stealing release.
***
Moira lay stunned—her nerves humming with sensitivity, her blood still rushing—while he cleaned his seed from her body as he had the night before. Though she was grateful for his focus on preventing a child, she couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to feel him release while still inside her. Her womb clenched at the thought as a pulse renewed deep within.
She was astonished by her response to him. Astonished and terrified.
His touch seemed to go beyond the surface of her skin. At times, his kisses seemed to draw upon her very soul.
After he walked away from the bed, she rolled onto her side, giving him her back and space in the bed. After extinguishing the last light in the room, he lay beside her. Gratefully, he did not reach for her. She wasn’t sure she’d have the strength to leave him if he did.
Moira remained still, barely breathing as she waited for his heavy breaths to fill the night silence. Then she waited just a bit longer before she slid from the bed and pulled her nightgown back over her head, then drew on her robe. All the while she listened intently to his deep, even breathing to ensure he slept on, her stomach tumbling and turning in emotional turmoil.
Forcing herself not to look back, she left his bedroom. After closing the connecting door with a soft click, she padded across the neighboring bedchamber to sneak out into the main hallway. Then she rushed back to her bedroom in the opposite wing, her bare feet quickly becoming chilled as an odd and heavy weight settled high in her chest.
With every step, one word kept repeating through her mind.
Mistake. Mistake. Mistake.
But she couldn’t decide if the word was in reference to the handfasting, the fact that she had gone to his bedroom tonight, or that she’d left it once again.
Staying away from him had been easy through the day when she’d things to keep her occupied. But once she’d taken a bath and lain down in her bed with the intention of sleeping, her thoughts kept flying to her husband’s bedroom.
She’d kept imagining him as he’d looked the night before. So confident and masculine. His sensual arrogance perfectly balanced by his boyish grin and generous, pleasure-giving touch.
Her introduction to lovemaking had been...astonishing and more thrilling than anything she’d ever know. She’d never had to put herself completely into someone else’s hands. She’d never had to trust someone to that degree.
But with Braden it had been shockingly easy to surrender to his direction. After nearly an hour of her body growing more and more needful as she warred with herself over the idea of going to him again, she’d finally convinced herself that she could enjoy the physical pleasures he offered without risking more.
She just had to keep her heart untouched.
When she was still a wee lass, her grandda would tell her stories about the boy she’d someday marry. He’d boasted of the young heir’s accomplishments at school, his boyish antics, and his compassionate nature. Her grandfather had painted her betrothed as a golden son, a young man of princely attributes, kind and handsome. Any young girl with an imagination and hope for future happiness would have fallen in love with Braden Fulke, heir to the Duke of Melbourne.
And
Moira had not been the exception. She’d spent endless days imagining their future as a fairy tale.
Until a day shortly after Grandda’s passing when she came upon a scandalous report of the young duke’s London activities in the newspaper. Despite the pain it caused her, she tried to brush it off as a young man reveling in a little wildness before settling down. But the reports of his hedonism didn’t stop. In fact, they escalated until she couldn’t bear to read them. Especially after she turned eighteen and began waiting for him to take her as his bride. Every new female he was reported to be associated with became a fresh dagger in her heart.
Her girlish love could not withstand the evidence of the sort of man to whom she’d been bound. So, she turned her attention away from thoughts of a fairy tale marriage to focus on her duties as the lady of Dunnwood. After a while she began to believe the betrothal could be ignored altogether. Melbourne could continue his wild ways in London and she would remain as she had been. Occasionally, she’d consider the possibility that someday she might meet someone truly suited to her, but she figured she would deal with that when and if it ever occurred.
But then a few years ago, the estate tenants and local farmers and villagers experienced a bit of bad luck. Nothing significant at first, but the instances continued and worsened until whispers began to circulate. People she’d known all her life began to eye Moira warily when she passed. On occasion, she’d catch a glimpse of resentment.
Finally, she went to Nan—who heard every whisper that flowed through Dunnwood—for an explanation.
It seemed a superstition had overtaken everyone’s good sense.
The fates of the estate and the village had always been intertwined. When the family of Dunnwood and its tenants prospered, so too did the people of the village. It was the same in times of suffering or lack.