Chapter Fourteen #2
He stared down at her, completely exposed to his gaze, and his eyes flickered with a brilliance that seared her. “And now I will have you, Kate. Tonight and forever. Whenever and wherever I wish. However I wish. Beneath me, above me, in front of me.”
Kate tried to swallow, but her mouth was too dry, her responses too sluggish.
She slid her tongue out to wet her lips, and Grayson took it in his mouth.
Gently. Slowly. And all thought of resistance fled as she melted into him.
Her own nakedness, which once would have alarmed her, became freedom, a recipe for liquid pleasure as he touched her, his fingers sliding down her body in the most exotic of caresses.
He stroked her hair, her shoulders, her waist. He placed intense kisses on her palms, the curves of her arm, the arches of her feet. He drew her toes into his mouth, startling her with the raw sensation that spread upward, pooling between her legs.
He massaged her calves and her thighs and buried his face in her belly.
His tongue teased at her navel and her ribs and the underside of her breasts, before cupping them in his hands so he might feast upon them.
Finally, when Kate whimpered with want, he worked his magic upon her, rousing her until she fell back against the pillows, gloriously spent.
Then he rose up on his knees between her legs. “What say you now, poppet?”
Too weak to reply, Kate said nothing. She sensed his need to control this, as well as all else in his life. But whatever resentment she might have felt over his mastery dissolved in the moment she saw his body shudder—an involuntary display of his need that could not be feigned.
Then he was inside her, and Kate gasped at this new sensation. Blinking up at him, she saw his tall form bathed golden in the candlelight like that of a beautiful god. And as she watched, he began to move, his muscles straining, as if with some great effort.
“You are mine now, poppet,” he said in a strangled whisper.
“Yes,” she murmured. But are you mine? Kate couldn’t manage the words. And even if she could, would the answer be what she wanted to hear?
Grayson swore silently at what had been his worst performance since a lovely and lonely widow initiated him into the rites of love at a tender age. Barring that first instance, none of his encounters had been this brief, and he nearly cringed at the thought.
If he had been with anyone else, he might have stalked out of the room. But Kate was his wife, and beneath his disgust with himself was the stunning awareness that he had never experienced such bliss before in his life.
It was her doing, of course. Lifting his head, he hazarded a glance at her, but saw no recrimination there. She was not an experienced mistress who would sulk at his perceived selfishness. Yet he wanted to please her more than any woman he had ever taken to his bed.
And so he proceeded to do so, resuming his movements as though he had not blundered like a green boy.
And once himself again, he brought her to the brink over and over.
This was the lovemaking he was accustomed to, and yet it wasn’t, for instead of his usual detachment, Grayson felt a deep, fulfilling…
something for Kate that made their union more than just mutual pleasure.
His perceptions seemed heightened, his body more alive than ever before, his mind more fully engaged. Perhaps it was because he had waited so long to have her, but that did not explain his continuing, driving need to claim her for his own and never let her go.
***
Afterward, Grayson lay awake for a long time, staring sightlessly up at the ceiling, while Kate dozed. He was used to sleeping alone, and the feel of her slender body curled up next to him, her hair brushing against his chest, was both strange and delightful.
Frowning at the thought, he decided to put her to bed in the other room. But when he moved, it was only to tighten his arm around her, pulling her closer.
He bit back an oath, for this was worse than he’d suspected. The want that he had hoped to vanquish tonight had only grown, tipping perilously close to need. Grayson’s free hand clenched at the thought of such a weakness. He ought to get up and go somewhere—anywhere—just to prove he could.
But he didn’t.
He lay there and let the soft warmth of her breath brush his skin and the subtle scent of her perfume fill his head until he wanted her once more, his body ignoring the control he had displayed all his life.
Until tonight. Grayson drew in a sharp breath at the reminder.
He had acted like a boy, not the man he was known to be, and had lost mastery of himself.
And instead of his usual eloquence he had been reduced to incoherent grunts and murmurs.
Perhaps Raleigh was right, and next he would be beating his breast like a jungle beast.
The thought was galling. Grayson had always been certain that nothing was more powerful than the intellect he used to harness his wealth, his influence, and his life. But now something was happening to him, changing him, and he did not like it.
It had begun here, at Hargate, a sort of disorientation that eroded his composure.
Perhaps all he needed was a different locale, a return to his own milieu.
Retirement to the country had banished his ennui, but now it was time to go back to the familiar world of Town and the responsibilities he had neglected.
Grayson released a long breath as he considered such a course.
He could present his new bride to the ton and take some amusement in their astonished reactions.
He could begin proceedings to regain Kate’s inheritance and retake the reins of his varied business and political dealings.
Action. That was all he needed to regain a sense of normalcy.
His certainty faded as Kate stirred in her sleep and slid a silky thigh across his.
Gritting his teeth, Grayson wondered if she would lose her luster among the glittering ladies of London.
Perhaps then he would gain some respite from this endless wanting.
He ran a hand over her shoulder to quiet her, but her knee grazed his groin, and he shuddered. Would his craving for her never cease?
Maybe just one more time would ease it. Grayson stroked her back and turned toward her, letting his fingers roam her silky skin, his lips brushing against hers. She sighed gently and opened her mouth for him, lifting her arms to pull him close, and he was lost again.
Kate turned, snuggling against her pillow and clinging to the remnants of a delightful dream.
A dream about Grayson. A dream in which their marriage was not one of convenience, but of mutual desire and…
She blinked, a warm, slow awareness seeping through her at the realization that all of it was true.
Grayson had not wed her out of pity or duty or amusement. He felt something for her. She had seen it in his eyes and the taut lines of his body and in the control he had lost because of his passion for her.
Kate stretched, a long, languid sigh escaping from her lips, for she was happier than she had ever thought to be, happy beyond her wildest imaginings.
The marriage that only yesterday she had viewed with grim resignation now loomed before her like a brightly colored package waiting to be opened.
What a difference a single night had made upon her outlook.
Her pleasant musings were interrupted by the soft sound of footfalls, and she looked up to see Grayson entering from the other bedroom. Through the doorway she could hear Badcock’s voice echoing behind, and she scooted under the covers, hoping the manservant would not come in while she was here.
“Ah, good. You are awake at last,” Grayson said over his shoulder as he walked toward the dresser. Something in his tone, a thread of brittle coolness, made Kate eye him carefully. He was fully dressed in the finest of riding clothes, the very picture of the elegant lord.
Kate swallowed uncertainly. “Grayson? You’re up early.”
“Early?” he said, a faint mocking edge to his voice as he barely glanced at her. “I think not. You are the slugabed, for it is past noon.”
Past noon? Kate sat up, pulling the blanket to her neck as she studied Grayson’s fashionably attired back.
She had never slept so late, but then, she had never spent the night entangled with a man, either.
She flushed, embarrassed to be lingering among the rumpled sheets while Grayson seemed so far removed from them.
“Since I’ve no dressing closet, I finally called Badcock into the adjoining room,” he said, recapturing her attention.
Befuddled, Kate stared at his coat, wishing he would face her. “Badcock?”
He did turn then, to fix her with a dispassionate gaze. “He is my valet. I could hardly let him perform his duties while you’re lying in my bed.”
“I’m—” Kate broke off and took a deep breath before attempting to understand what he was saying. “You do not want me to sleep here?” she asked.
Grayson lifted a brow. “It makes for a rather inconvenient morning.”
The air went hissing out of her lungs in a low rush as Kate felt the impact of his words like a blow. He did not want her to stay with him after what had passed between them? Before Kate could gather her scattered thoughts, he headed toward the other bedroom.
“No matter, but you had better call your maid, for we leave for London this afternoon.”
“London?” Kate managed to halt him at the door.
“Yes. The town house is one of my principal residences, and I have some business to attend to that I have been neglecting of late.”
Kate stared, struggling to speak to the man who stood poised on the threshold, casually distant. A stranger.
“What about Lucy?” she asked.
“I’ve arranged for her to stay with the squire and his wife.”
“Too bad she’s not of age, or they, too, could be married in a day, and the business of their lives dispensed with as quickly,” Kate said, swinging her feet over the side of the bed.
Grayson gave a startled growl of laughter, his gaze sliding down to her bare legs and then swiftly away. “Good morning, then. I shall see you at breakfast,” he said, exiting the room without another glance in her direction.
As soon as he closed the door behind him, Kate sank down upon the bed, her brief show of strength spent, to bury her face in her hands.
Who was that man? That haughty nobleman could not be the same person who had lavished attention upon her body for hours, sharing intimacies such as she had never imagined.
A sob broke loose from Kate’s throat. Things were far worse than she had anticipated.
When she spoke her vows, her marriage of convenience had raised no expectations, had not touched the emotions she harbored for the man she was to wed.
But now she had had a taste of what a true union could be, had given herself in love, to this man only to have him ignore it.
Why had he spent so much time on her… pleasure?
Why had he claimed to want her? Kate had never thought Grayson a liar, but what else could she believe?
His demeanor today mocked her tender memories of last night, took her feelings for him and threw them back in her face, as if to say, “Really, poppet, do be serious. I’ve no use for your affection. ”
Her hope that he felt something for her was a delusion. After all, what did she know of men and their ways? What had been momentous to her had meant nothing at all to him. Less than nothing, for he wanted her out of his bed.
The very thought made Kate lift her head as anger crowded aside her despair. How dare he? Her mouth tightened as she resolved that he would have no further concerns on that score. She would never set foot in his room again.
And as for his peremptory commands… Kate waved her hand carelessly, a bitter smile curving her lips. So he thought to treat her poorly and order her about, did he? Perhaps he had forgotten that she was the woman who had shot him. And she bowed to no man.
That for your fine dictates, my lord marquess, Kate whispered. Snapping her fingers in disdain, she began to form plans of her own.