Chapter Seventeen
Trajan was experienced in the bedchamber, but bedding Florence was proving to be more of a challenge than he expected because their hearts were involved, and hers was so fragile.
In all his years, he had never imagined himself falling in love with a big-eyed, slightly eccentric, and definitely stubborn bluestocking who trusted him, needed him, and loved him as no one had ever done before.
She cast him a smile filled with hope, heart, and sunshine.
“I love you,” she said as he drew her close to kiss her.
With her words, she was also giving him permission to take her outside of the bonds of marriage.
But he was not certain she was truly ready for this yet.
As for him, he had been ready since first setting eyes on her. “Mutual, Florence.”
Oh, he wanted her with an agonizing urgency.
He would show her pleasure tonight, but it hurt him to know that she would absorb his every kiss and caress, soak it all in like a little sponge because she had been denied love for so long.
For this reason, he intended to wait until they were married to claim her as a husband should claim his wife because…
well, taking her without that vow of marriage felt like a taking and not a giving.
As though he were taking advantage instead of bestowing his heart, and it did not feel right.
Every time he thought of it, he was angered that she had been raised to feel lesser all of her life. Despite everything, she had accomplished so much.
And yet this notion of her being unworthy still haunted her. She carried it around like a great stone weighing upon her slight shoulders, waiting for the moment it would crush her.
To prove his point, she sighed and said, “I still do not see why you have feelings for me.”
Trajan was impatient by nature, but he knew that healing Florence with his love would take a while.
“I am not your parents,” he said. “Whatever reasons they had for treating you like an outcast have nothing to do with the soul of who you are. I think this has to be our next investigation, something to be addressed once you and I are married and I can protect you from whatever we might learn.”
He led her to the bed, stretched out beside her, and then took her in his arms. “I love you because you are beautiful and clever. You are also too independent for my liking, but that makes me like you all the more. Does this make any sense to you?”
She laughed lightly. “No, it doesn’t.”
“You think for yourself. You know who you are and what you believe in. And you care about me. Not the title. You would risk your life for me…not that I would ever let you do it. But it is nice to know you are always on my side.”
“I am and will always be,” she said with earnest ferocity.
“I know, love.” He leaned over and kissed her with a soft crush of his lips to her own.
She sighed. “Lovely.”
He kissed her again, a deeper kiss this time, and pressed his body lightly over hers because he wanted her to know how it would feel to have his body atop hers when they coupled. He wanted her to know that she was his mate and the one with whom he would spend a lifetime.
What came next felt natural and easy, for she responded to the touch of his hands and lips upon her body, accepting each new sensation and letting herself go because she trusted him to take her on this journey.
She closed her eyes and emitted breathy moans and soft purrs as he touched and teased her and aroused her.
She gasped when he put his mouth to her breast and suckled the bud.
He thought to draw away.
“No, Trajan. I like this very much.”
All right, then.
He held back a chuckle when she clasped his head and held him to her so tightly that his nose was buried in her breast.
Well, who ever said the course of true love had to run perfectly smooth?
“Florence, ease up,” he mumbled, lifting off her slightly to move to her other breast.
“Oh.” She let go of him.
“Put your hands on my shoulders, love.”
Her lips were pink and warm, and her eyes shimmered. She looked like a woman experiencing passion, which pleased him mightily. “All right, why?”
“Because I am going to send you soaring, and I want you to hold on to me.”
She smiled. “I have no idea what that means, but it sounds thrilling.”
“It will be. Do you trust me?”
Her expression turned earnest. “You know I do.”
Yes, because her heart was as fragile as glass, and he was the only one she had ever dared trust to keep it safe and protected.
Perhaps this was why she was so completely wrapped in his heart. For all her independence and stubbornness, she wanted him and needed him.
He knew she would give every ounce of herself to him when he claimed her.
No hesitation. She was all in.
“Close your eyes, Florence,” he whispered, and then kissed her slow and deep.
His mouth sank onto her delicious lips and lingered there, lightly at first but with growing intensity. She took her cues from him and responded in kind, clasping his shoulders and drawing him close, as though afraid this moment might end if she ever let him go.
She seemed to like the press of his body upon hers, the warmth of it and the security of it. But he wanted her to know—and perhaps in time she would—that he would always be there for her even if she did let go.
Love was the string that bound him to her.
Of course, there was much to be said for the physical aspect, too. Their entwined arms, entangled legs, the friction of their bodies rubbing together and creating heat. Creating fire.
Her skin felt soft, and she quivered as he kissed his way down her body.
But she almost rolled off the bed in surprise when he put his mouth to the core of her parted legs and gave a soft lick. “Trajan!”
“Hush, love. The walls are thin.”
“Oh, that is so unfair of you,” she whispered, and gave a mirthful laugh, then clutched his head and drew him up by his ears. “Explain this. Why did liquid fire pour through me and set every pulse in my body throbbing?”
“May I get back to the task and explain later?” he said with a strained laugh.
His own body felt volcanic because he adored and craved everything about her. The softness of her skin, the scent and taste of it. The warmth of it. The lovely shape of her. The way she purred when he touched her.
“Can you not give me a quick hint now?”
He supposed this was what happened when one made love to an inquisitive bluestocking, so he moved back up and took her into his arms as he spoke.
“There is no place more sensitive on a woman, Florence. Have you never read any books on this? Or spoken to friends about what takes place between a man and a woman?”
He knew her mother would never have explained this to her, since the woman had never done anything kind or helpful for Florence in her life.
“I did read a little about it, but never really bothered because…”
“Because you never thought anyone would love you,” he said, quietly seething as he finished her thought. “But I love you.”
She cast him a heartbreakingly tender smile. “Will you please continue? I did not mean to interrupt you.”
He laughed softly. “Are you sure?”
She nodded. “Never more certain of anything in my life.”
Trajan resumed his onslaught, thinking he had to start all over again to stir her passion. But he needn’t have worried, for they were both lost to each other, ravenous and craving each other in less than the span of three heartbeats.
He once more kissed his way down her silky body, felt the rush of fire as he pressed his mouth to her core and tasted her sweet nectar.
She responded with exquisite innocence, and soon shattered in pleasure for what he expected was her first time ever.
He looked up and watched her, completely caught up and undone by the wild toss of her dark mane tumbling over her shoulders and partially covering her glorious breasts, and the breathtaking beauty of her face while in the throes of passion.
After a moment, she opened her eyes. Indeed, they flew open, and she softly asked, “Trajan, what in heaven’s name was that?”
He cast her a conquering grin. “Did you like it?”
She nodded. “Was I not obvious? What did you do to me? Goodness, my skin is so hot. My heart is still beating too fast.”
He rolled onto his back and drew her into his arms with a possessive growl.
But she wouldn’t stay nestled in his embrace. She squirmed to her knees and hastily reached for her nightgown that was lost amid the sheets.
Praise heaven.
What a body she had. Gorgeous legs. Pert, sweet breasts. He was going to turn into a wild ape if he did not stop staring at her.
“Does it work the same way for you?” she asked.
“Yes, love. Possibly stronger. The male urges are pretty intense.”
This seemed to surprise her. “What must I do to get you to respond to me in this way?”
“Nothing. Gad, Florence. Even now, I am desperate to roll you under me and have at your pink, pouty mouth and insanely luscious body. Do you have any idea how incredibly lovely you are?”
Once again, she appeared surprised.
“Just be you. My body will do the rest. But do not tempt me now. Not tonight. It’s getting late and we need to sleep, or we’ll be dead to the world come morning and miss the mail coach.”
She said nothing, merely looked disappointed.
“Tonight was meant for you, love. We’ll continue this biology lesson as soon as we reach London. But I’m going to marry you first. Then we’ll arrange to deliver the letters to the princess.”
“Shouldn’t we go to her first?”
“No.” He was adamant about this. “You are not to seek an audience with her until you are my duchess. And I intend to be there with you.”
“Because you think she is going to cheat me out of the promised reward?”
“Saving your brother is not much of a reward,” he muttered. “She may not cheat you so much as pile on another requirement. The point is, this needs to end. And she needs to be told of Frampton’s retribution.”
Florence lightly touched his bandaged arm. “Oh, I ought to have checked on your wound.”