Chapter Twenty
Trajan did not rush Florence through their meal, but noted she had hardly eaten anything.
Well, it had been an upheaval of a day for her.
But also a good day, and so much had been accomplished.
She was his wife now, and he felt such great contentment knowing she would be his from this day forward, his with which to share hopes and confidences, and always give him honest answers.
A beautiful confidante.
He hoped to be the same for her, the one in whom she chose to confide her deepest yearnings.
She looked up from her plate and cast him a breathtaking smile. “Trajan,” she said in wonder, “can you believe it? We are now husband and wife.”
He took a sip of his wine and nodded. “How does it feel to be my duchess?”
“Oh, it feels nicest to be your wife. The duchess part will take a bit of learning on my part. I’ll seek Fiona’s help, or that of Mrs. Blake, if ever I am uncertain.
Fiona was born to the role, don’t you think?
She always handles everything so effortlessly.
Did you see how happy she and Durham were together?
Have you ever seen smiles so filled with love? ”
“Yes, it was the first thing I noticed. This is what I hope for us.”
She poked her fork around the remains of a potato. “I think I am there already. My heart swells to bursting whenever I am near you.”
He chuckled. “Florence, that sounds like a dangerous, adverse reaction to me.”
“All right, then I’ll merely say that my heart swells with happiness. No bursting or rupturing.”
“Much better. Mutual, my love.”
She smiled and set down her fork. “I’ll never tire of hearing your endearments.”
He took her hand in his. “Then you shall hear them often from me, for you are quite easy to love.”
Her smile faltered. “Am I?”
Ah, her childhood deprivation rearing its ugly head again. “Yes, and this is among the things we will address in the upcoming days. But not tonight. Tonight is about us, and if I am very lucky, lots of naked sex.”
She gasped and then laughed. “Oh, I think you shall be a most lucky fellow.”
He grinned, but then sobered. “Never more than you are comfortable doing, all right?”
She cast him an impish smile. “My goal is to make you howl. I just haven’t figured out how to do that yet.”
He leaned back in his chair and groaned. Gad, if she only knew how easily it would be accomplished. Had he not been irresistibly drawn to her from the very first?
“Are you done? Shall I have the dinner cart taken away? And do you want a maid to assist you in preparing for bed?” he asked.
“Yes to both, I think. Do you mind?”
“That you prefer a maid to me?” He grinned. “No, I’ll patiently wait my turn. Just knock on our interior door whenever you are ready.”
He had his routine as well. And an eager valet inherited from his granduncle waiting to assist him.
This would likely be their routine from this night on, so why not keep to it now? The only thing he did not wish to compromise on was sharing a bed. He did not care which bed he and Florence shared, so long as they remained together.
He had just donned his banyan and dismissed his valet, who strode off happily with an armload of clothes to refresh and his boots for polishing, when he heard a soft knock at their shared door.
He opened it to find Florence in her ever-practical nightgown and robe, her silky hair long and loose, and her emerald eyes wide and sparkling.
Buying her a new wardrobe was also an item on his list of things to address—certainly the addition of a few silk nightgowns was warranted, even if he would be slipping them off her the moment they got under the sheets. “Ready, love?”
She nodded.
He lifted her in his arms and carried her to his bed.
“Trajan, your arm! The stitches! The doctor said not to lift more than a teapot for this first week.”
“My arm is fine. And you weigh little more than a teapot.”
She laughed. “That is utter nonsense.”
“Fine, but you are still light as a feather. Or perhaps it is that my heart feels light as a feather because you are now my wife,” he said, making her laugh again as he set her down gently on his bed.
The room was fairly dark, save for the soft glow of three candles on his nightstand casting an amber light upon the bed.
“I love you,” she said with a vulnerable ache of feeling that tore straight through to his heart.
“Mutual, Florence.”
Those were the last words they spoke as he kissed her and slipped the nightclothes off her to reveal the beauty of her body. He removed his banyan as well, wanting nothing between them.
He took it slow, at first doing nothing more than sliding his roughened hands over her soft curves as she became accustomed to his touch.
In the meantime, she asked her questions about his body, his arousal, and what all of it signified. “It means I desire you, Florence.”
He then proceeded to show her with his kisses and his mouth on her skin, his tongue on her breasts, and his fingers that would ready her when he claimed her as his wife.
She tasted as sweet as a peach, which was the scent of the soap she had used on herself, apparently her favorite.
It suited her skin, the warmth of it and the refreshing sweetness of it.
He shifted atop her as he aroused her and felt her passion mounting along with his. He entered her, slow and gentle thrusts at first, hardly intrusive until she became used to his body inside hers and he embedded himself fully.
He wrapped her legs around his hips. “Like this, Florence.”
Although her instincts were just fine and he did not have to explain any further. She went with her feelings, arching to meet his thrusts and clinging to his shoulders that were taut as he felt the heat and pressure of his own impending release.
He kissed her lips with urgency, deep and long, and felt the lovely press of her breasts against his chest as he moved with greater urgency, his body undulating in shifting rhythms and bringing her along with him.
His thrusts were now more urgent. Longer. Deeper.
He saw her passion rising. Felt her on the precipice.
But so was he.
Then all exploded at once, Florence shattering in the throes of her release, her body quivering as his own liquid force spilled into her in wave upon wave of hot desire, his spasms ungentle and unrefined.
Just raw craving. Both of them lost to this scorching need to be one. Lost to passion and, most of all, love.
He watched her exquisitely expressive face as she soared and then slowly floated down to rest in his arms. She embraced these new sensations and embraced him.
“We both howled,” Florence said, casting him a triumphant smile as they calmed and he rolled off her to collapse on his back atop the mattress.
She turned on her side to face him, her hair spilling over her shoulders in silky, dark waves, and her body as smooth as cream and deliciously warm.
Once again, he drew her into his embrace and lightly brushed his hand along the silken length of her hair. “It was nice. Really nice. Great, actually.”
She kissed his shoulder. “I thought so, too.” Her lips were rosy from his kisses.
They lay together in silence for a long moment, each of them needing time to absorb what had just happened between them. She was so soft and sweet, meant to be in his arms.
Meant to be his.
Yes, they surely had been destined to meet and fall in love. One heart recognizing the other. Their bodies recognizing their mate.
He expected Florence would begin to toss him questions about what they had done, but she lay quietly huddled against him, her breathing smooth and even.
He smiled and kissed the top of her head. She had fallen asleep in his arms.
This was nice. Really nice.
He blew out the candles and fell asleep soon afterward, too.
Trajan awoke a few hours later when a sudden chill replaced the cozy warmth at his side. He blinked, for it took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the predawn light, and soon made out the shape of Florence as she searched for something within the rumpled folds of their bedcovers.
She eeped as he put a hand on her sweetly rounded rump, and turned to him while at the same time drawing the sheet up to cover herself. “I did not mean to wake you. I was searching for my nightgown.”
“Are you cold, love?”
“No, I was comfortable against your heat. But…I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to stay.”
“You were going to leave me?”
“No, just be prepared if you wanted me gone.”
“I don’t want you gone,” he said, drawing her back to his side and taking her in his arms, the sheet still tucked around her. “Not ever. I thought you understood that we are to share a bed.”
She nodded. “Well, we discussed your taking me to bed. I wasn’t quite clear on the specifics afterward.”
He kissed her softly on the lips. “Specifically, I wish to wake to your lovely face each morning and fall asleep to your smiles and kisses each night. Workable for you?”
“Yes.” She curled up against him and purred.
They made love again by the early light of dawn.
Florence fell asleep once more and remained contentedly sleeping even when his valet knocked at his door.
Trajan rose from the bed, groped about the covers and found his banyan, then made certain Florence was safely covered before he allowed Higgins in. He took the freshly pressed clothes and polished boots from his valet’s hands. “Come back in an hour. Knock first. My wife might still be in here.”
The man’s face turned crimson.
Yes, they were going to have to figure out a better schedule. It was bad enough the man knew Florence was naked beneath the covers. He might pass out if he ever caught a glimpse of her leg or—egads—her breast.
Trajan would have to pound on the man’s heart to revive him. He’d also have to kill him.
Higgins had been his granduncle’s valet. But Trajan could not bring himself to discharge Higgins, so he’d kept him on in London and Reed, his own valet, on at Gull Hall.