Chapter 36
“Wherein .... a wedding! And a loving retribution is joyfully given.”
The wedding breakfast was an intimate affair with just Georgiana’s aunt and uncle, Lord and Lady Falmouth and Lord Nibley and his sister, Florence.
Conrad was also in attendance with his partner in crime, Bandit.
The two irredeemable rogues surveyed the floor and cast hopeful gazes upon the assembled company.
Unshakeable in their belief that someone would give them one of the scotch eggs which they were well aware were somewhere among the lavish spread supplied by Fortnum and Mason’s, they continued to wag eager tails.
Sebastian had, however, been adamant that Conrad would not be going with them on the honeymoon to Paris, despite Georgiana’s protestations that he would pine for her.
On applying to Lord Falmouth to ask if he would keep him for the duration, so that at least his dearest companion, Bandit might be close at hand to keep him company, Lord Falmouth had simply replied, “Good God, no!”
So, Conrad would return to Cornwall with Aunt Jane and Uncle Jo, where Georgiana was assured, he would be walked daily and allowed to chase rabbits to his heart’s content.
If Georgiana felt that her new husband’s pleasure in the day was lessened by the absence of his best friend, it was a thought she kept to herself, though she resolved to do everything in her power to remedy the rift as soon as she was able.
The wedding breakfast finally came to an end after much toasting and the congratulations of their nearest and dearest.
A tearful farewell was indulged in by the ladies and Aunt Jane was obliged to cling hard to her husband’s arm while that heartless individual laughed, though not unkindly and implored her not to be such a silly goose.
Georgiana just smiled and decided it would be churlish to point out that she’d noticed Uncle Joseph surreptitiously wiping his eyes just moments earlier.
The journey to Claridge’s was ridiculously short and Georgiana teased her new husband for being too terribly proud and top-lofty to walk the short distance from Grosvenor Square to Brook Street.
Sebastian just snorted and told her to mind her manners for retribution was due, before kissing her with a ruthlessness that left her still flustered and red-cheeked as she entered the hotel.
If the staff thought it odd that his grace would spend his wedding night a few doors down from his own home, they gave no cause for either of them to suspect it.
For her part Georgiana was delighted with the sumptuous hotel, and more than relieved not to be entering the domain of the dowager duchess of Sindalton, the mere idea of which had put her in a quake.
Sebastian had quickly laid to rest her fears admitting that he felt entirely the same way. So, a night at Claridge’s had been decided upon before setting off on a honeymoon to Paris and then down through France and on to Italy.
Lord Falmouth had insisted that they stop off at his brother’s home close to Bordeaux as he was sure Georgiana and his sister-in-law, Henri, would hit it off wonderfully well.
Céleste had agreed with this, only adding with a mischievous grin that Sebastian would also like Lawrence far better than he did Alex.
Finally alone with her new husband in a large and elegant bedroom which held the slightly daunting focus of a huge double bed, Georgiana found herself unaccountably nervous.
Especially as there was a challenging light in his eyes which she knew she had put there with her teasing over the past days. Refusing to look too much the blushing bride, she put up her chin and met his gaze head on.
“It’s been such a lovely day, Sebastian, and thank you so much for being so kind to my aunt and uncle. They adored you of course.”
“Of course,” he said with a smirk, divesting himself with some difficulty of his skin-tight coat.
“Here, let me help you.” Georgiana helped him ease the exquisitely tailored article over his broad shoulders without creasing the art of the peerless Mr Weston too severely. “Oh, dear, your valet would have kittens to see me doing this, wouldn’t he?”
“Oh, good heavens, don’t,” Sebastian said, snorting with amusement. “He’ll be sulking for weeks as it is for being given the evening off. I’ll no doubt be told apocryphal tales about half a dozen young bloods who would merrily stab me in the back just to get their hands on him as revenge.”
“Well it was your idea to get rid of all the servants until tomorrow. Most improper according to Aunt Jane, though you won Céleste’s approval at any rate,” Georgiana said chuckling, though she was aware it was a rather nervous sound as Sebastian’s hands went to his waistcoat buttons.
She swallowed, watching the progress of those strong fingers as they made their way down the extravagantly embroidered silk of this impressive garment. Sebastian cast it with negligent care onto the floor and stepped closer to his bride with a decidedly feral grin.
“Now then, your grace,” he said in a low voice.
“Oh!” Georgiana said in surprise, interrupting him. “That’s me now, isn’t it?” She gave a little laugh of surprise. “Your grace! How strange it sounds.”
“Yes, it is,” Sebastian said, sounding rather impatient. “Now do be quiet, love. I want to seduce you.”
“Oh,” she said again, trying and failing to smother a laugh. “I do beg your pardon.”
“I should think so,” he replied, shaking his head at her and then frowning at the dress as he turned her and discovered the thirty-three tiny pearl buttons that ran down her back. “Good God!” he exclaimed. “What manner of sadist went and put all those blasted buttons on the wretched thing!”
“Sebastian!” Georgiana exclaimed, smothering her laughter with a trembling hand.
“Well, damn it, love. I’ll be here all night!”
Shaking with silent mirth, Georgiana waited as Sebastian undid one fiddly button at a time, all the while complaining and cursing bitterly about confounded dressmakers.
Finally reaching the end of the buttons and his patience, she heard an audible exhale as the heavy satin slithered to the ground.
Shivering with anticipation, she stepped out of the gown and kept her back to him as she removed the final items of her underclothes.
She cast her stays and chemise aside, with rather less nonchalance than he’d managed with his waistcoat and turned to look at him wearing just her stockings and garters.
For a moment she struggled to look at him, feeling her skin hot with mingled embarrassment and anticipation. But on meeting his gaze all qualms were cast aside more easily than any garment on seeing the love and desire blazing in his dark eyes.
Without further hesitation he swept her into an embrace, his mouth claiming hers with an impatient urgency she was only too happy to imitate. He stopped suddenly and took a deep and rather shaky breath as he turned his attention to removing the pins from her hair.
“I’ve been desperate to see this all loose about your shoulders,” he said, his voice low as his fingers slid through the thick copper of her hair.
He watched with obvious fascination as the shiny locks glinted against his large palm and fell against her pale skin.
“So very lovely,” he said, his voice reverent and husky with need.
She watched with interest as his face grew a little guarded and his brow furrowed.
“Love, I know we ...” He cleared his throat and looked strangely ill at ease before he continued. “Er ... dallied a little, together in Cornwall but ...” Another pause in which he frowned a little harder. “Do you ... do you know what to expect? I mean ...”
Georgiana gave a little gurgle of laughter, delighted to discover that her husband was just as nervous as she was. His reputation for being a shocking flirt and a ladies’ man notwithstanding.
“Oh, yes, darling. After all I am a country girl. One does see things in the country you know, and after that Céleste filled in the bits I was missing.”
“Oh, thank God,” he said, with obvious relief. He smiled down at her, so much tenderness in his expression that her heart seemed to squeeze in her chest. “So, you’re not nervous then.”
“Only a very little,” she said, returning his smile. “I know you’ll take care of me.” She bit her lip and then added with rather more daring than she was truly feeling, “I’m really just terribly impatient. Do get on with it, darling.”
“Why you little wretch!” he exclaimed wrathfully, sweeping her up and throwing her on the bed, where she bounced a little and tipped her head back laughing as he prowled over her.
“Get on with it!” he repeated, mirth glittering in his dark eyes.
“Of all the unmaidenly, improper, wicked things to say to me!”
He grabbed hold of her hands and pinned them to the bed above her shoulders as he insinuated his large body between her legs. She gasped, surprised again at the weight and size of him, relishing the feel of his much heavier frame against her own.
Sebastian leaned down and nipped at her earlobe, trailing his tongue over the very edge of her ear, nuzzling the tender flesh beneath and painting kisses along her jaw and neck.
Georgiana sighed and squirmed, arching against his body.
He allowed her to press against him for a moment, his eyes darkening as she gasped and flushed with mounting desire.
He chuckled, the sound low and intimate as he moved away from her.
“Where are you going?” she demanded, sitting up on her elbows.
He sat back and undid his cravat with obvious and painstaking care, a smug grin hovering over his mouth.
With a huff she laid back, glaring at him as he carefully folded the long length of pristine white silk and returned to his buttons.
Each one was undone with great care and growing amusement on his part as Georgiana narrowed her eyes at him.
“You are a very unkind, husband,” she said, with a sniff, but was quite unable to tear her fascinated gaze away as he removed his shirt to reveal a hard, muscular frame.
The more of his finely tailored and sophisticated clothes that were removed, the more she was struck by the contrast of the virile masculinity that had been hidden beneath it.
He seemed all at once a great deal less civilised and far more rugged.
The thought made her heart thud harder. She continued to watch, knowing he was aware of her scrutiny as her eyes took in a broad chest, lightly dusted with dark hair that led in a tantalising trail beneath the band of his trousers.
She caught her breath, and the sound at least had the result of making him hurry. Putting all pretence at a studied nonchalance aside, Sebastian cast his boots into the far corners of the room and removed the remaining items of clothing as fast as he was able.
She blinked as he prowled back to the bed once again, more than slightly daunted as Céleste’s encouraging words returned to her and were put in the light of the impressive figure of her husband.
“What, nothing to say, love?” he teased, his mouth slightly quirked as one hand slid up the back of her leg and tugged at her garter. She watched, her mouth dry as he drew first one silk stocking and then the other from her legs as his hands continued to stroke and caress her.
“Good Lord, don’t tell me I’ve finally rendered you speechless?”
“O-only ... momentarily,” she gasped as his naked form finally pressed down upon her. The feeling of his hot skin so close to hers was enough for any further thought at proving him wrong to be banished from her mind.
Yes. Yes, indeed she was speechless.
Entirely robbed of any coherent thought or grasp on the English language as she was reduced to an incoherent bundle of nerves that could do nothing more complex than gasp and murmur with delight as his lips and hands began to explore her.
“Oh!” was the most rational sound she was capable of as he kissed a path to her breasts and drew one aching nipple into the warm heat of his mouth.
She whimpered and arched into him, sinking her hands into his dark hair and grasping at the thick locks. She allowed her hands to slide down his neck, exploring the great expanse of silky skin that covered his broad back and shoulders.
Grasping at the heavy muscle of his arms, she moved restlessly beneath him, aware of a growing sense of emptiness, a need to be joined with him that made her impatient.
He chuckled against her skin, clearly more aware than she was of what it was she needed as he worked his way down her stomach, painting her skin with his tongue as he descended lower.
She shivered, too intrigued to be embarrassed by the intimate path he was set upon. With delicate fingers, he parted the curls at the apex of her thighs and with a last, lingering look of challenge in his eyes, lowered his mouth to her most delicate skin.
Momentarily startled, she hauled in a breath and then gave a perfectly shocking moan as pleasure radiated through her body. Georgiana had never felt so completely exposed, and not just physically.
There was such trust in this, such pleasure in knowing he wanted to love and please her. She was lost in the feel of his tongue, sliding over her, at times teasing, at others demanding as he alternately lapped and tormented her.
Any sense of embarrassment she might have felt in looking down and seeing that dark head bent between her thighs dissipated with the knowledge that she was loved.
This was very different from the only other time they had been intimate. Then she had been so dreadfully afraid, certain he was toying with her and unable to relinquish herself fully to the joy of his touch.
Now she allowed herself to be overwhelmed by it, rushing with greedy abandon to the pinnacle of pleasure as he continued to tease and indulge her tender flesh with his mouth and tongue.
She sucked in a breath as she felt the intimate touch of his fingers as they slid inside her, first one, then another, caressing and stroking in unison with his tongue as his mouth closed over her once again.
Her thighs fell further apart with wanton sensuality as her hips rose towards him, encouraging him as she cried out and clutched at the bed clothes as the climax shook her and she fell into a voluptuous sea of bliss.