Eight Hunting Lyons (The Lyon’s Den Connected World)

Chapter Twenty-One

G emma paused in the doorway, waiting for her husband to join her. A bit nervous now that they were truly alone, she tried to tamp down the trembling that had begun the moment she’d walked into the kitchen and seen his hand wrapped in bloody linen.

Fear for the man she’d come to depend upon so quickly threatened to bring her to her knees. She stared at the hands she’d clasped at her waist. How could she have come to care for him so quickly—so completely? Did she truly love him, or was it infatuation?

What do I know about love?

Her husband’s rumbling chuckle had her looking up to meet his gaze. His eyes were a deep, dark gray.

Were those storms of anger swirling in their depths or something more potent and dangerous?

“I’ll teach you.”

“Teach me?”

“You just asked, what did you know about love,” he reminded her.

Wishing she could slip behind the drapes—they reached the floor and would surely hide her. If only he had arrived a few moments from now, she’d be safely tucked behind the heavy brocade drapes. “I…er…had not realized I’d said that aloud.”

“What can I do to alleviate your unreasonable fear of me?”

Temper started to simmer inside of her. “Unreasonable?”

He looked to be vexed with her. Because of her question or because she appeared to fear him?

Rather than have to guess and come up with all sorts of suppositions that had nothing to do with the situation, she queried, “Why is my hesitancy with you unreasonable? I barely know you, and we are well and truly wed.”

He closed the distance between them and pulled her close. His heat washed over her, relaxing some of the tension holding her up. “We won’t be well and truly wed until we join together in the marriage bed.”

“We have a little time now. Why don’t we get into bed and then get it done? I’m afraid I left our guests in the sitting room.”

His mouth gaped open, and just when she was about to lean toward him to touch her fingertips to his chin to help him close it, he snapped it shut. “Once I have you in our marriage bed, you won’t be getting out for hours.”

She tilted her head to one side. “Hours?”

“Aye, Gemma.” Wrapping his good hand around her back, he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. The softness of his kiss had a sigh escaping. “Would you be kissing me during those hours?”

The tip of his tongue slid along the line of her lips, tracing their shape, before he pressed his lips to hers in a series of tempting kisses that reminded her of someone sampling a sweet confection.

All thought evaporated when his tongue invaded her mouth, coaxing her to mimic him. Tentatively, she touched his bottom lip with the tip of her tongue, tasting, sampling, savoring. Tangled together, mimicking the probing of his tongue as he slid his hand lower on her back, a delicious feeling skittered up her spine as heat pooled low in her belly.

Shocked by the feelings running rampant within her, she pushed against him until he eased his hold on her—even one-handed, his strength was enough to hold her prisoner, had he wished to.

His nostrils flared. His eyes darkened. His gaze dropped to her mouth and then returned to her startled gaze. “There is so much more to the marriage bed than a few passionate kisses.”

“You promised to tell me, Colin—”

“Show you.”

“Mayhap,” she admitted, a blush tinting her cheeks as she tried to hide the reaction from him.

He wasn’t having it. “How long have the earl and countess been here?”

“They’d only just arrived before you.”

“And Mrs. Coventry and Michael?”

“They arrived together.”

Tempted to see if the hollow of her throat tasted of lavender, he drew her close. Pressing his lips to her collarbone, he left a trail of open-mouthed kisses leading to the gentle dip between them and touched the tip of his tongue into the hollow there. “You taste of sun-warmed lavender.”

Shock held her immobile while he kissed a path from her neck along the line of her jaw, ending beneath her left ear. She sighed and tilted her head to one side to give him better access.

“Gemma, love, we have to stop now.”

“Stop?” her eyes were glazed over and staring.

He leaned his forehead against hers. “Now,” he added, struggling to catch his breath.

She slipped her arms around his neck and pulled his lips toward hers. “One more kiss?”

He obliged and felt the need for her building as his body reacted to her innocent kisses and shocked pleasure to the point of pain.

She stiffened and hid her face against his throat. “Um…Colin?”

He struggled not to do or say anything that would discourage her innocent attempts at wooing him. “Aye, Lass?”

“Are you…”

He knew what she wanted to know but let her take the lead in asking questions. “Am I?”

“Have I done something wrong?” she finally managed to ask.

He took a deep breath and placed his knuckle beneath her chin, urging her to meet his gaze. “No. Why do you ask?”

Her face flamed a deep red and a hint of moisture filled her eyes.

“Don’t do that.”

A tear slipped from the corner of her eye, tracing the curve of her cheek as it disappeared beneath her ear. “Do what?”

“Cry. Making love is something that should bring joy, ecstasy—not tears.”

The quizzical look in her gaze nearly released a chuckle. He would not laugh at her. He’d tease laughter from her later—after he’d gotten past her fears and opened her heart and mind to a world where only the two of them existed. Pleasure to share and to be shared. Secret places to be unlocked to give her what she didn’t yet realize she would come to crave.

The intimacy of his touch. His lips, teeth, tongue, and hands…stretching her, getting her ready to accept that part of him that throbbed insistently to be inside of her. The ache nearly had him on his knees. He dug deep to ignore the need to toss her on the bed and bury himself to the hilt in her softness. He’d bathe in the very essence of her while her cries of rapture filled his ears. Only then would he let go of his rigid control, throw back his head in triumph with a guttural roar and pour his life-giving seed inside of her.

“There it is again,” she gasped, shoving out of his grasp. Pointing a shaking finger at his trousers, she rasped, “What have I done to you?”

He shook his head. God, please help him get through this night without hurting her feelings or being too rough as he sought release deep inside of her.

“Nothing,” he assured her.

“When you are ready to tell me the truth, then I’ll be ready to listen!” His wife of nearly half a day whirled around and stomped to the door.

He had her in his arms before she could touch the handle. “You will cease your bloody questions, Wife! You will listen before I lose my mind and take you too roughly. I promised not to hurt you, but you’re making it nearly impossible.”

“Take me where?” she demanded, shrugging his hand from her arm. Tears welled up and spilled over. “Can’t you give me a straight answer? It’s not my fault that I have no notion what you’re talking about!”

He gently brushed the tears from her face and smoothed an errant wisp of hair from her lashes. “What you felt,” he told her, “is the part of my body that longs for you.”

“You have parts of you that have feelings?” she scoffed. “I thought you were going to be honest with me, Colin.”

Fighting against the need to shake her until she got past her hurt and inexperience to the point where she could begin to understand that he really had no idea how to explain the art of making love. He could show her, but no. Not Gemma. His wife wanted him to tell her.

Well, the bloody hell with that! “Ring the bell pull if you would.”

“Are you feeling poorly? Do you need the laudanum?”

“No.”

He waited for her to comply. She finally nodded, walked to the bell pull and tugged on it.

“Thank you.”

A few moments later, he heard the knock and opened the door. “Ah, Hanson, would you kindly send a message to the earl and countess—”

“Forgive me for interrupting, your lordship,” Hanson apologized, “but Earl and Countess Lippincott and Mrs. Coventry and Michael left a short while ago. Captain Coventry apprised them of your injury and advised you might be feeling up to receiving visitors in another day or so.”

Relief filled him. “Very good, Hanson.”

“Will there be anything else?”

“See that my wife and I are not disturbed.”

“Of course, your lordship.”

The butler bowed and closed the door behind him.

“Now then, my dear wife. I shall show you what I cannot seem to find the words to tell you.”

“Show me?”

“Aye,” he told her as he locked the door. “Let us begin your instruction with a thorough examination of the differences between your body and mine.”

Her eyes widened at the suggestion and then she slowly smiled. “It would be a relief to understand what is going to happen between us.”

He smiled down at Gemma. This is the woman he was meant to spend the rest of his life with. Irritating her, cherishing her, loving her, and watching her swell with the proof of that love—their babe growing inside of her.

She would vex him in return, all the while cherishing him, loving him, and Lord willing, giving birth to that love. He didn’t care if it be his heir or a daughter, he would love them with all his heart.

“Now then, Gemma. I’ll need your help disrobing.”

Her eyes widened, but she readily agreed. “Tell me what do to.”

He smiled as he leaned close and whispered explicit instructions into the shell of her ear.

Her gasp and his laughter echoed through their bedchamber.

“Will we really do that?”

He nodded, warmth filling him as he eased one side of his trousers down over his hips, while she carefully tugged on the other.

She averted her eyes, until he brushed a whisper-soft kiss to her cheek, pleading, “Won’t you look at me, Gemma?”

“I felt you,” she confessed. “I’m not really sure that this is going to work.”

“Trust me,” he urged.

“I do,” she was quick to assure him. “It’s just that you felt so…hard and impossibly large.”

He nearly choked over her description. “And?” he managed.

“I do not see how we could possibly fit together like a puzzle as you suggested a moment ago.”

“Ah, that is the part we shall both enjoy—me readying you to accept the part of me you seem to fear.”

She tossed her head and met his gaze with fire in her eyes. “I do not fear you.”

“Show me then, Lass. Look at me.”

Her sharp intake of breath had him wondering if he’d be able to talk her into anything beyond where they stood right now. Him in his waistcoat, shirtsleeves, and cravat—her fully clothed.

Need for her clawing at him, he rasped, “Touch me, Gemma. Just the tip of your finger…I’ll try not to move, but just the thought of your soft hands touching me, sets me on fire.”

When she hesitated, he reminded her, “You said you did not fear me.”

Her hand drew close to the very heart of him. “I don’t.”

“One touch, Gemma. You choose where to touch me. The blunt tip, where I swear to you by all that is holy, the seed of our future waits to mingle with your essence when our bodies join as one. We will make love and beautiful children together.”

Her fingertips wove their magic as she touched him gently as if she feared to either touch him or somehow cause him pain.

“Oh!” she cried out in wonder, rubbing the tips of her fingers together. “Your seed is warm and silky to the touch.”

“Gemma,” he rasped. “I don’t think I can do this, after all.”

“Yes, you can,” she soothed as she kissed him lightly on the mouth. “Please be patient with me and let me help you.”

Together, they removed his waistcoat.

“Now your cravat.” She loosened the intricate knot, tossing the fabric aside, reaching for the hem of his cambric shirt. Careful not to touch his injured hand, she peeled it from him and stood back to take him in.

She bit her lip, as her gaze swept from the top of his head to the tips of his toes a second time…and then once more. “You have far more muscle than I realized, Colin—and in places I could not begin to imagine.”

The part of him that begged to be touched again, jolted at her words.

Her gasp had him groaning. “I cannot help it, Gemma. God in Heaven, I need to be inside of you.”

“Am I ready?” Her innocent question had his heart opening to let her all the way in.

“Not yet.” He twirled his finger in a half-circle. She smiled and turned until her buttons were accessible to him. “Now then. First, we must divest you of your gown.” Buttons freed, he paused to tell her, “You looked lovely earlier, wrapped in moonlight pledging your life to mine.”

Together, they removed her gown. When he reached for her chemise, she reached for his hand to stop him. “Would you kiss me like you did earlier? Every thought slipped from my brainbox, and I couldn’t feel my legs from the knees on down.”

He’d never felt so unsure of himself as he did in that moment before he willingly gave his heart utterly and completely to his wife. Love for this woman swamped him.

His lips captured hers in a kiss that went on forever, tangled tongues, questing lips, and gentle nips of his teeth worked their magic until she sighed and stepped back. Her eyes on his, she pulled her chemise over her head.

They stared at one another for long moments, enraptured.

Him by her trusting him enough to do so.

Her trusting he would go slowly and teach her what it meant to join together like two pieces of a puzzle, until their bodies accepted one another, and he planted the seeds of the next generation deep within her willing body.