Chapter Twenty-Seven
Though a small and intimate affair, the marriage of the Marquess of Redington to Miss Charlotte Dickson was indisputably the most talked about wedding of the season.
A special license was obtained and the necessary arrangements were made in quick order allowing them to wed only two weeks later. The church service was short with a reception for family and close friends only at the Duke of Lindley’s mansion in Mayfair.
With the wedding planning occurring in such a whirlwind fashion, Ralston and Charlotte did not have any time to be alone together until their wedding night. Though Charlotte would have been quite happy to meet in some clandestine manner, Ralston insisted they wait, promising it would be worth it.
At least he’d agreed not to waste time by traveling to some secluded country estate for their first night as husband and wife.
His personal residence was so much closer and perfectly private.
Charlotte was relieved when she entered the elegant townhouse at her husband’s side and did not see an intimidating line of servants waiting to be introduced to the new marchioness.
Likely hearing her sigh, Ralston turned to her with an explanation. “I hope you don’t mind waiting until tomorrow to meet the staff.” The subtle twist to his lips was undeniably wicked. “I wanted you all to myself tonight.”
“I don’t mind at all.” She didn’t bother trying to hide the breathless anticipation in her voice.
His eyes darkened. “Would you like a tour of the house or—”
“Only if the tour takes us straight to our bedroom,” she interrupted.
His chuckle was deep and rich as he suddenly swept her up in his arms and started up the stairs in long, determined strides.
Charlotte’s body alighted with fiery sparks as her entire being tingled in anticipation of what was to come.
As he stalked along a lush upper-floor hallway, he passed by one door, giving a short nod as he muttered, “My bedroom” before continuing to the next door where he slowly set her to her feet, allowing them both to feel the delicious friction of her body sliding against his.
“This is your room.” His voice was gruff and weighted. “I’ll give you ten minutes before I come to you,” he warned. “Not a moment longer.”
Charlotte’s body flushed with heat and hunger. Though she wanted nothing more than to throw her arms around him and pull his mouth to hers, she stepped back instead. With a final look of longing and promise, she slipped into her bedroom.
She would become his tonight.
But he would belong to her first.
She barely acknowledged her surroundings as she shed her wedding gown and readied herself for her husband. All her thoughts and focus were on what was to come and she had everything set by the time she heard his short, purposeful knock at the door connecting their bedrooms.
“Enter,” she replied.
She’d briefly considered affecting the French accent, but decided against it. Just as she’d decided against adding a mask. Tonight was between them. Husband and wife. Ralston and Charlotte. No facades or disguises or societal roles. It was just the two of them. Stripped down. Naked. Honest.
He’d shed his fine dress clothes and wore only a pair of loose trousers and a satin robe held closed with a sash around his trim wait. He looked every inch the entitled lord. Refined. Powerful. Seductively confident.
For herself, Charlotte had chosen a simple yet elegant black silk French negligee that was cut low enough to reveal the shadow of her sternum and contained a slit that bared one leg nearly to her hip.
And when he stepped through the door and saw her standing across the room, a glass of red wine in her hand, he came to a stuttering halt.
His lips parted on a ragged breath before his gaze roamed hungrily over her body.
By the time his focus lifted back to meet hers, the room seemed to have warmed by several degrees. His stare was hot and penetrating. His body was taut with intention and desire.
But he remained where he was. Waiting.
Despite her lack of a mask or accent, he seemed to understand exactly what she intended. What she desperately wanted.
She hoped he wanted it, as well.
“In this room…” she began slowly, only to have him finish for her.
“I belong to you.” His voice was raw, graveled, and deep. The texture wove through her blood and danced devilishly over her nerves. It was an acknowledgment and a promise.
She smiled. “Come to me.”
“Oui, Madame,” he murmured, approaching her in long strides, his fierce stare never leaving hers.
She almost ordered him to lower his gaze, but she wanted him to see her. See into her. Know her. Feel what she felt.
For now…anyway.
“Stop,” she said when he reached the center of her bedroom.
His brows furrowed with delicious frustration, but he followed the order.
“Do not worry, my love,” Charlotte said in a soothing tone, “you will have what you want. Eventually.”
His eyes flashed and the muscles of his chest flexed. She wanted to see more.
“Remove your robe.”
“Oui, Madame.”
His low words thrilled her almost as much as the disrobing.
She could not keep her gaze from gliding over every shadowed contour of his stunning torso as the satin slid from his shoulders and down to the floor.
He was beautiful. And devastating in his strength and power so expertly contained within his will to please her.
Instead of circling around him, she approached him directly.
Until she was close enough to detect his rich woodsy scent and feel the heat emanating from his skin glowing like copper in the firelight.
Lifting her hand, she lightly drifted her fingertips along his collarbone, then over one taut pectoral muscle, then along the ridges of his ribs, before crossing back over his belly, which trembled beneath her touch.
By the time her gentle exploration was finished, a silken sheen of sweat coated his body.
He glistened.
And she was reminded of how he’d tasted. But this time, instead of using her finger to claim the moisture, she leaned toward him and flicked her tongue against the hollow at the base of his throat.
His groan was rich and heady as he dropped his head back to allow her more access.
She took it, trailing her tongue up along the side of his throat, feeling the thrum of his pulse beneath her lips, tasting the heat of his rising desire.
Though his hands clenched into fists at his sides, he didn’t reach for her. Finally lifting her head, she met his fierce stare with a smile of appreciation.
“Your patience and restraint are admirable and must be rewarded.”
Lifting her glass of wine to his lips, she ordered gently, “Drink.”
Dark eyes held her in thrall as he opened his mouth for a small sip of the heady red wine. When she took the glass away, a drop remained on his bottom lip. She caught it with her fingertip and opened her mouth to place it on her tongue.
He watched her with intent focus, his breath shortening, as she hummed her appreciation.
Then she dipped her finger into her wineglass then touched it to the side of her neck. Tipping her head back and to the side, she murmured, “Drink.”
He bowed his head reverently and gently licked the droplet from her skin.
Shivers of delicate pleasure chased down her spine. With heavy-lidded eyes, she slipped the strap of her negligee off one shoulder, baring a breast. His swift inhale of appreciation tightened the peak to a stiff point.
Watching at his desirous gaze focused intently upon her breast, she placed another drop of wine along the upper slope. Then she waited, allowing the wine to slide over her skin to her nipple.
“Drink.”
With a gruff sound, he leaned forward. Touching her with just his tongue, he swirled over her breast, chasing the wine to its resting place before taking her fully into his mouth.
The deep, lush draw of his mouth sent flames licking through her body, flowing like molten need to that aching place deep inside.
A quick flick of her finger had the negligee falling to the floor, baring her completely.
The sound he made was raw and deep. Almost feral.
Releasing her breast, he sent his heavy gaze down the length of her, soaking her in through his dark, penetrating stare.
Already trembling, Charlotte dipped three fingers into the wine and placed them at her sternum.
His lips parted as he watched the three distinct rivulets slide down the center of her body, past her navel to disappear into the thatch of dark curls below.
A rumbling growl issued from his chest, but he did not move other than to return his ravenous gaze to hers with an expression that was weighted with tumultuous cravings.
With a soft smile, she placed her hand to his chest, then slid her palm down to the ridges of his taut abdomen before allowing her fingertips to tease across the edge of his waistband, near his swiftly rising erection.
Sliding him a look of wicked promise, Charlotte drained the last of her wine from the glass, making sure to lick every bit of residue from her lips, inspiring a deep and throaty moan from her husband.
“Oh,” she exclaimed softly, “Did you wish for another taste?”
His chin dipped as he replied, “Oui, Madame.”
Slipping her finger into her mouth, she wet it thoroughly with her tongue, then offered her finger to him.
He opened instantly and when she slid her finger past his lips, he groaned with raw pleasure.
His tongue twirled, lush and hot and hungry, as his eyes drifted closed.
The attention he lavished on that single digit sent spirals of pleasure through her body, swirling with heat until her bones melted with a delicious aching.
“Enough,” she managed in a rough whisper as she withdrew her finger.
His gaze found hers, frustration and yearning filling the dark pools.
She smiled. Then took a step back. “On your knees, my love.”
A ripple of what might have been resistance or acute anticipation rolled through his body. But he murmured his assent before smoothly dropping to his knees before her. His gaze naturally fell to the floor as his hands came to rest on his thighs.
“Beautiful,” she praised huskily, her belly swirling at the sight of him. Forcing an evenness to her breath, she said, “Tell me what you want.”
His lashes fluttered against his sculpted cheekbones. His voice was raw with desire, thick with need. “I must have another taste.”
Glancing to the empty glass she still held in her fingers, Charlotte replied, “But my wine is gone.” She tilted her head and smiled. “Do you desire another taste of my mouth?”
“No, Madame.” His tone was raw and vulnerable. “It is the taste of your desire that I crave. So fiercely it hurts.”
Charlotte nearly collapsed to the floor. Her nipples peaked painfully and her sex throbbed in response to his words as liquid heat flooded her core.
“Please, Madame,” he begged in a tortured whisper.
Though her legs threatened to give out, Charlotte held herself still. Everything in her demanded she offer herself to him like a feast, but she wanted to make it worth it. For him. Take him to the very edge of his control.
Turning away from him, she walked naked across the room to set her empty glass on a small table. “Do you think you deserve such a valuable reward?” she asked, her tone light despite the lust and longing twisting almost violently through her.
He answered quickly—fiercely. “I will do anything.”
Charlotte did not respond right away. Instead, she continued to one of the tall-backed armchairs in front of the fireplace.
With deliberate, languid movements, she lowered herself to the chair.
Keeping herself perched at the edge of the seat, her legs pressed together and crossed at the ankles as she draped her wrists over the arms.
Then she stared at her husband.
Devoured the sight of him. Admired every inch of him. Consumed the dark look in his eyes, the tension binding his torso, the spread of his fingers atop his thighs, the hard, thick ridge angling up from his groin.
He was astonishing. His beauty. His power. His commitment.
She met his intent burning stare and offered a smile. Telling him with everything but words how much she desired him. How deeply she loved and trusted him.