Chapter Eighteen
A fire had been lit in the Duke’s bedroom, for even on Christmas Eve, a servant’s work was never done.
His Grace took the formal jacket from around her shoulders, explaining, “I told my valet I could undress myself this evening, but the poor fellow lives in fear of a chill nipping at my ducal toes.”
Aurelia laughed. She wasn’t nervous exactly, but she felt relieved that they could talk, laugh, and flirt together. She’d be a duchess in the New Year, and she worried that their dynamic would be…altered somehow. She understood now that she’d been foolish, for Selwyn loved her no matter what.
“Your staff is devoted to you,” she said, wrapping her arms about his waist. He was such a burly, strapping man, and she felt utterly safe in his presence. “I think it’s sweet that he slipped up here during the festivities to light a fire.”
“I’m a good employer.” Selwyn bent his head to kiss her. “I pay by the toe.”
Again, she laughed, and he said, “There, that’s better.
Tonight is important, Aurelia, but it mustn’t be a serious occasion.
” His large hands cradled her face. His thumbs stroked her cheeks.
“We can have as much fun as we like tonight—and every night afterward, for you’ll be my wife, I shall be your husband. ”
Aurelia could scarcely imagine that he was to be hers, and they would be together like this for the rest of their lives. The Duke was a man of great strength, but with a gentle hand. She marveled at his graceful movement as he carefully undressed her.
A warm flush stained her cheeks. Aurelia felt heat from her nose to her toes, and everywhere in between. She slipped from her silver-and-gold brocade evening gown and allowed him to drape the glimmering mass of skirts over a nearby settee.
She watched as he placed his waistcoat, white cravat, braces, and trousers atop her clothes.
Selwyn stood before her clad in only his dress shirt and drawers.
Firelight played off his bare flesh, for he was all long legs and firm thighs, and when—at last—he hauled his shirt over his head and dragged his underclothes down his hips, Aurelia gasped audibly.
His chest, arms, and torso rippled with muscles that she’d only ever seen on statues and in works of art. As for the rest of him…
Heavens!
He was a country gentleman, a brawny Yorkshireman, who’d grown up hale and hearty out of doors. He was no lean, lithe Londoner, and she was glad! She loved him just as he was.
Aurelia placed the flats of her palms on his chest, feeling his heart beat. She drew closer, allowing him to unlace and unhook her corset, petticoats, and bustle paddings.
To her surprise, the Duke dropped to his knees before her. He kissed each delicate patch of skin between the lace edges of her drawers and the tops of her garters, and then he deftly rolled her stockings down her calves.
His hands were strong as he massaged her ankles and cupped her heels, stripping off both lengths of embroidered silk and depositing them on the carpet upon which he knelt. It was erotic, this slow seduction, this heart-pounding prelude to their lovemaking.
She all but hauled him to his feet. Aurelia removed her pretty ribboned chemise and soft, lacy drawers. She stood before him, as proud and naked as he.
She was unafraid.
Truthfully, a thrill of excitement coursed through her, heightening her longing for him. Selwyn moved to the bedstead. It was a sturdy piece of Louis XVI carved wood and cane furniture, draped in a thick eiderdown and crisp, clean linens.
“Come and lie down, darling,” he said, folding back the bedclothes, “let me wrap you up warmly.”
Smiling, she slid beneath the covers, feeling the softness of the sheets against her skin and the heat of his gaze on her nude body. No one had ever seen her unclothed, and she hoped no one else ever would. It was delightfully intimate to be so desired.
Aurelia opened her arms to the man she loved, and he eased onto the mattress beside her. He pulled the bed linens up around their shoulders and burrowed in deep, asking, “How is that, my love? Better?”
She nodded her cheek against his chest. “Perfect, Selwyn. Everything is perfect.”
He kissed her then, hungry and open-mouthed. His tongue traced her lips and stroked between her teeth. His hands encircled her breasts, lifting, shaping, and caressing them until her heart thudded beneath his tender, working palms.
His lips played against hers as he brought her nipples to tight, aching little buds.
Aurelia arched against him, offering herself up to him and panting for more.
The soft, naked flesh of her inner thighs rasped against his firm, muscular legs.
She cradled his hips and clasped his backside, wantonly grinding against him until he was gasping and breathless, too.
“I love you,” she said, welcoming his fingers to that secret spot which had only ever existed in her wildest dreams, her most delicious fantasies.
She had wanted the Duke of Brantingham for years, but now he was to be hers—Selwyn Charlton.
A kind and devoted family man, a gentle and purposeful lover, and a trusty friend through her most difficult days.
His left hand cushioned her skull, giving her a soft place to land as he stoked her to the heavenliest of heights. “I love you, too, Aurelia.”
Her splayed legs twined with his, and that hard, insistent part of his manhood quested at her entrance.
With his guidance, she lifted her knees to accommodate him.
She wasn’t frightened, though every nerve sparked beneath her flesh.
She felt beautiful, desirable, and loved. What could be more precious than that?
She drew a breath as he eased inside. His progress was slow, careful, and restrained, but he found her slick and pliant, and, oh so willing! Aurelia moaned as he seated himself fully. She writhed as he rocked his pelvis. She canted her hips as he pumped again, and again, and again.
Selwyn whispered praises as he worked. He murmured that she was magnificent and vowed that he’d never known such passion, such pleasure. All the while, he circled his fingertips at the place where they lay joined, stroking her—both within and without—in a rhythm that drove her wild.
She tossed her head against the pillows. She threw her whole body into his embrace, crying out for the release for which she’d grown desperate. “Please, Selwyn…”
Imperceptibly, he angled her hips to increase the depths of his thrusts. He groaned, and his breath bellowed. He battled with his own release as he guided her toward bliss.
A climax was such a private thing, and making love, by contrast, meant opening up, sharing, and leaving oneself vulnerable. This was their first time together, and for a moment, she felt shy. What if he thought her silly? Or wanton? What if she did something wrong?
Yet his steady hands gave her courage. Selwyn loved her. He treasured and respected her. He wanted what was best for her, and now denied himself for her sake.
She longed to meet him where love and ecstasy collided.
“Oh, my sweet Aurelia,” he chanted in her ear. His warm breath fanned her cheeks. His free fingers tangled in her hair. “My most cherished darling. I’m afraid I cannot finish without you.”
His words enflamed and emboldened her. She searched her heart and found it full. Surely, it must be overflowing with love, and desire, and trust. In answer, she wrapped her arms around Selwyn’s shoulders and followed him to the pinnacle of pleasure.
Release swept over her, and Aurelia cried out his name as she spasmed against him. Selwyn strained within her for a heartbeat, maybe two, until he tumbled over the brink and joined her in satisfaction.
They lay panting and perspiring in the center of his large, elegant bed. The fire crackled and cast the room in a cozy, flickering glow. She burrowed against him, feeling warm, sated, and happy. He smiled at her from across the pillow, looking rather smug for all his hard work.
He had labored well tonight.
She traced his upturned lips with the pads of her fingertips. “Thank you. That was marvelous.”
He laughed. “You’re welcome, of course.”
“Everything you’ve done for me since the moment I arrived has been marvelously kind.
Tomorrow, we shall tell your siblings about our engagement—our real engagement.
Someday, I’ll meet my grandparents, and perhaps my own aunts, uncles, and cousins, as well.
We can celebrate large family Christmases, Selwyn, and Easters, and anniversaries. Doesn’t that sound lovely?”
“It sounds as if our domestic calendar will be full from here on out.”
She laughed, and then she asked, “You wouldn’t mind, would you?”
Selwyn touched the tip of her nose with his. “I think it’s perfect. I might be a dull old stick to some, but I can’t imagine anything better than doing just that with you for the rest of our days.”