Chapter 13
CHAPTER 13
C larissa smiled as she watched her husband help Lady Nance, one of Society’s oldest ladies, into her carriage. He was so gentle in the way he did so, so kind in how he spoke to her and bade her farewell. He could be, and often was, so entirely gentlemanly. Not just because it was expected, but because it was who he actually was. She had misjudged him before and she was glad of it.
At last that carriage departed, though, and he turned back to her. They were alone now. All the guests gone with their well wishes still ringing in the rooms around them. He’d even managed to get her parents off with little trouble.
“You were wonderful, my lady,” he said softly. “Your first act as countess can be called nothing but a great success. I was told I am the luckiest of men by at least a dozen partygoers.”
“Oh. That’s very kind.” She bent her head. He didn’t truly believe he was the luckiest of men. She knew what he’d wanted from life. What he’d lost by being forced to be married to her.
“Are you tired?” he asked.
“I am.” She glanced up at him.
“There will be time to…to rest before supper. It will be late tonight. ”
“Rest,” she repeated. “Are you also going to rest?”
He nodded. “I’m going to go upstairs. I can take you.”
She looked up at him and was caught up in the dark intensity of his eyes. How she wished she knew him better to know what he was thinking. It was impossible when all he did was take her hand and didn’t speak further as they returned to the chamber at the top of the stairs. In the antechamber they stopped. She turned to face him.
He was watching her intently. She swallowed hard. “Will you show me your room now?”
“I…I don’t want to rush you, Clarissa.”
Rush her. She supposed that was kind. But it made her worry that perhaps he didn’t want her as much as he had before. That the shine was off the diamond even before they’d begun. The fear loosened her lips.
“You don’t want to”—her cheeks felt like they were on fire—“to consummate the union?”
“Oh no, I most definitely want to consummate this union.” He took both her hands and lifted them to his lips, kissing both sets of knuckles one after the other and sending shockwaves of sensation through her. “But this has been a long day. We’re both still adjusting to all the changes. And I don’t want you to feel obligated to come to my bed. I want you to do it only when you are ready.”
“You really are a gentleman,” she said softly.
He smiled. “Not as much as I should be.”
She let that sink in a moment. He was giving her the space to be ready. But he was also putting the onus to drive this part of the marriage onto her. To make the decision rather than be swept away. She sighed. “I’d like to see your chamber, Roderick. I’d like to do the things a married couple is meant to do, because I’m so nervous about them that I fear I’ll make them into something terrifying if I wait too long. But also because…”
She trailed off and he voice was breathy when he said, “Because?”
“Trust you to make me say it,” she muttered. “Because every time you kiss me I feel this pressure all over my body. I’ve been told by friends that it’s desire. That it’s the wanting for what we’ll do in that chamber. I…I want this.”
He moved forward a step and touched her cheek, gliding his fingertips down to her jawline. She leaned into his touch, her eyelids fluttering shut as she gave a shaky sigh. She heard his breath catch, then he leaned in, bent his head and let his lips brush hers gently. She lifted into him, meeting him as she had in the carriage. Now she couldn’t contain a little moan..
“Come then,” he murmured, drawing her across the room toward his chamber. “I won’t make either of us wait anymore.”
Clarissa shook as he drew her into his chamber, his mouth finding hers over and over as he guided her. When they’d stepped inside, he released her and let her step forward and look around while he locked the door behind them to insure privacy.
The other room was blue but this one was done in dark greens, highlighted with lighter colors. The ceiling had a crisscrossed pattern of exposed beams and in the ceiling space created within were different painted scenes, some sweetly innocent and some a little more risqué with couples kissing most passionately.
“My father’s version of the chamber matched hers,” he explained, answering her questions before she could even voice them. “I made it my own.”
“It’s beautiful,” she said, and let her eyes find the bed across the room. It was bigger than the one in the countess’s chamber, with heavy dark green bedclothes and bunches of comfortable-looking pillows.
“ You are beautiful,” he murmured, and stepped behind her, putting his arms around her and drawing her back against his chest. She shivered at the heat of him there, the strength of his body cradling her own. How could one feel nervous and safe at the same time? They were opposite sensations, weren’t they? “You said your friends told you about desire. Did anyone explain what will happen tonight? ”
She nodded and then sucked in a breath as he kissed the spot between her hairline and the neckline of her gown. “My mother tried and only made it sound horrible. But then Marianne and Esme came and explained it better.”
He shook his head without parting his lips from her skin. “It’s like they want to make the marriage as much work as it can be.”
“My parents?”
“Yes.” Slowly he turned her to face him and she stared up into those dark eyes that now held her captive. “I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure tonight is filled with only pleasure.”
He bent his head to hers again and she leaned into his kiss. It was so funny because when he’d first kissed her she’d been so taken off guard, but now she craved the firm pressure of his mouth on hers. She longed for the taste and tease of him as he let his tongue touch hers and turned her bones to liquid. She was spiraling into the pleasure of just that when she realized he had begun to unfasten her gown.
She gasped and drew back to stare at him. “You’re…you’re undressing me.”
He smiled a little. “Being undressed is a requirement. Well, for some it isn’t, but I much prefer it.”
She looked down at herself. He’d already opened three buttons and her dress gaped, revealing the pretty chemise beneath. Slowly, she lifted her hands and covered herself. “No one has seen me naked save a few female servants.”
He nodded. “You’re nervous. Would you prefer if I go first?”
Her eyes widened. She hadn’t thought of that. Him naked for her? “I-I’ve never seen a man naked either.”
She waited for him to become annoyed that she was drawing this out, denying him at every turn, but his expression never gave her that impression. “We’ll go slowly. And if you want me to stop, stop anything, all you need do is say so. What we are going to do to consummate this union should be only a pleasure to us both. If it becomes something else, I don’t want that. ”
Slowly, she nodded and then stepped back. “You go first, then.”
He shrugged out of his jacket and then unfastened his waistcoat. When he was only in his linen shirt and trousers, he stepped closer. “Will you untie my cravat while I work on the cufflinks?”
Her heart was pumping blood so loudly in her ears that she could hardly hear him. He wanted her to undress him. Strip away whatever pretense of propriety he wore in public. She shivered and found her hands lifting even though she didn’t think she’d decided they should. She touched his cravat and felt around for the tucked ends that would allow her to loosen the knot. When her fingers brushed his skin beneath the wrapping, he hissed in a breath softly.
“I’m sorry, did I scratch you?” She pulled her hands away.
“That wasn’t a sound of pain, I assure you. I like when you touch me,” he said. He had one cufflink free and was working on the other. He stopped and kissed her yet again. “Please continue.”
Her hands shook as she went back to her work. She somehow managed to get the careful knot in the fabric untied and then slowly began to unloop the long length of the neckcloth away. He was so much taller than her that it was a challenge, but she found herself laughing went he bent down playfully so she could draw the cravat away at last.
“There we are,” he said, and his arms came around her. “This doesn’t have to be wrought with worry and tension, Clarissa.
“I beg to differ, my lord,” she said, her laughter fading into a smile. “I’m afraid I’ll be tense until this is over.”
“Not if I do my job right,” he muttered, and then he stripped his shirt open and tugged it over his head.
She stared despite the fact that she’d been trained never to do so. How could she not? She’d never seen a man half-naked and here was her husband, a powerful specimen of lean muscle and strength all but towering over her. Again, she was struck by the dichotomy of her emotions. She felt overwhelmed, but the room was also somehow dreamy. Like this was some foggy fantasy .
“I can’t tell if you’re horrified or thrilled,” he said, and the teasing in his tone shook her from her shocking thoughts.
“I—I—both?”
“Oh dear,” he said, and came closer. He caught her hand and pressed it to his chest, flattening her palm against the plane of muscle covered in warm flesh. “What is horrifying? Just my face?”
“You know you have a very handsome face,” she managed to croak out as she watched her fingers flex against him, felt his body ripple in response. “I just don’t know what to think or do.”
“You’re doing fine,” he murmured. “Touching me is exactly what you should be doing. May I remove your dress?”
She blinked. He had gone first, after all. That had been their bargain. This was his right and the longer she waited for it to happen, the more frightening it became. She nodded. “Yes.”
Once again he turned her back to him and she felt his fingers go back to the buttons along her spine. His hands brushed her skin as he flicked one after another free and then pushed her dress slightly forward so it gaped down around her chest without falling off her arms.
He moved her to face him again. His pupils were dilated now, his breath harsher. Almost as if he were as anxious about this as she was. But how could that be? He’d had lovers before, she had to be just another in a string of women he took to his bed.
“Breathe,” he whispered as he drew her gown down inch by inch, over her elbows, down over her wrists, around her waist and finally pushed it into a pool at her feet.
She had never been on display like this. Not with her chemise brushing mid-thigh and her garters on display and her chest shockingly bare so that one could see the cleavage of her bosom. She raised a hand to cover herself, but it was woefully inadequate.
“Better than I imagined,” he said.
She tilted her head. “You imagined me like this?”
He nodded. “Since we kissed in the library and I knew you would be my wife, I have definitely imagined this moment. ”
She wrinkled her brow. “But you didn’t want this. You don’t want me.”
“I very much want you,” he said, and cupped her bare shoulder with his palm. She shivered at the warmth on her skin and the way he dragged his hand down, catching his fingers in the strap of her chemise and tugging it to her elbow.
He moved in to kiss her again and she relaxed a little at that familiar touch in the midst of the warring reactions to new sensations. He deepened the kiss, pulling her closer, letting her body mold to his skin, be closer than ever before. As her riotous thoughts faded, she found herself clinging to him, lifting to him. Wanting him to do more, even if she feared what more would be.
She flattened her hands against his chest and pushed back. He released her immediately and watched as she paced away to the fire. She stared into the flames, trying to ground herself further.
“Too much?” he asked when she’d been silent for what felt like forever.
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I’ve been raised all my life, told by guardians and books and friends and governesses that I’m not to feel such strong reactions, emotions. And yet now I’m supposed to take off my clothes and let you do these things to me that turn me on my head. How can I be both demure and filled with desire?”
His expression changed. She wasn’t sure what he felt, but she braced herself for a scolding or to be made fun of. Instead he caught her hand. “Why can’t you just be you , Clarissa? In this room, in my arms, in my bed, could you forget comportment and propriety and ladylike behavior and just be you?”
She blinked up at him and a horrible fact became clear. “I’m not sure who I am.”
“You are challenging,” he said, and lifted her wrist to his lips to brush them there. She shivered at the cascade of tingles that seemed to flow through her at that touch. “You are intelligent.” He kissed her again. “You are kind, regardless of someone’s position.” Once more, he brushed his lips to her, but this time he moved up her forearm. “You are sweet.” He growled deep in his throat and when he kissed the inside of her elbow, his tongue darting out. “Almost impossibly sweet. And you are my wife. So I ask you to trust me. Let me guide you tonight, teach you what this thing you fear and worry and think about over and over can be. Trust me.”
Trust him. In truth, she still barely knew him. And yet she did trust him. When she looked up into those dark green eyes, she saw a man who wouldn’t hurt her, not on purpose. Perhaps not ever. Such a strange thing to know down to her bones.
“Yes,” she whispered. “I-I trust you.”
He cupped her face, fanning his fingers along her jawline as she tilted up to offer her lips. He took then and she felt the shift. The kiss was still gentle, yes, but she felt a deeper hunger behind it. A more powerful need that swept over her like a wave in the ocean. Fighting it would be no good. She just needed to float.
So she did, not drawing away when he walked her toward his bed, his mouth still on hers. He caught the chemise strap he’d left at her elbow and drew it all the way down, then repeated the action with the other. When he pushed the fabric away, she was naked for him and she squeezed her eyes shut when he pulled back to look at her.
“So perfect,” he murmured, his voice hypnotic and seductive. His fingers pressed into her lower back, bowing her a little, and then she felt his mouth on her nipple.
Her eyes flew open and she stared, watching him lick her, swirling his tongue around and around the tip that she had never known could be so sensitive. When he nipped and sucked her, it sent electric waves of pleasure between her legs, making her throb in time to his touch. She let out a ragged moan and heat suffused her cheeks.
“I-I’m sorry,” she whispered.
He lifted his head from her breast. “For what?”
“I don’t seem to be able to control my response,” she said.
He shook his head and then surprised her by catching her by the waist and lifting her onto the high edge of the bed. They were face to face now, equal in height .
“I want you to lose all control of your response,” he said, his eyes locked with hers in the most fascinating way. “Forget everything else, forget whatever you were told or feared. I want to hear you moan for me, Clarissa. I want to hear your breath catch. I want to know what pleases you by the way you rise beneath my tongue and rake your fingers across my back.”
She shivered. His words were so wicked and she found herself wanting to lean into him, rub herself against him as he said them.
“The rules of engagement in bed are my expertise,” he whispered with a little smirk.
She laughed a little. “I suppose that’s true, isn’t it?”
“Now lie back,” he said, pressing a hand to her shoulders.
She wanted to argue. Who in the world lay back across the bed, their legs dangling off the edge? What would be the purpose? She fought the urge. As he’d said, he was the expert. If she wanted to learn the proper way to engage with her husband in their martial bed, this was the way to study, even if relinquishing control was more than a little frightening.
She rested back, drawing a few long breaths to settle herself, and squeezed her eyes shut. He let out a little laugh and then she felt him move away from her. She opened her eyes and sat up on her elbows.
“Where are you going?” she asked, hating that her voice sounded so desperate.
“Just to get a place to sit,” he assured her, and pointed to one of the chairs by the fire before he dragged it across the fancy carpet and placed it where he’d been standing before her naked body.
He didn’t take that seat yet, though. Instead, he placed one hand on each of her calves. She shivered at the intimate touch. Men didn’t even see a lady’s legs, let alone touch them. And here he was with his warm palms cupping her before they began to slide upward.
“Oh,” she gasped as he pressed his palms to her knees, let his fingers tickle the sensitive place behind them. He moved higher still and she stopped breathing entirely as she watched his fingers press into the flesh of her thigh right below her stocking. He unlaced the garter and rolled one stocking down, removed her slipper and then did the same on her other leg.
And now she was utterly, entirely naked. Naked with a man. This man. Her husband. Her mind spun with that wild notion and she flopped back and closed her eyes again so she didn’t become entirely overwhelmed.
As if he sensed that shift in her, her stilled his hands on her thighs and merely stroked there. “Clarissa?”
She opened one eye and found him watching her. She nodded.
“I’m going to tell you what I intend to do,” he said. “I don’t want you to be surprised.”
“Yes,” she managed to gasp out.
“I’m going to kiss you,” he said, and then motioned between her legs. “There.”
“Why?” she burst out, and sat back up on her elbows again.
“Because it will feel good to you. It will most definitely feel good to me. And it will help ready you for what will happen afterward. The wetter you are, the easier the way, especially this first time.” He stroked his fingers against her thigh and she gasped at the sensations that seemed to flow through her whole body.
“Yes,” she murmured again.
A flare of response rippled over his face. Something dark and sensual that hooded his gaze as his fingers stroked a little more firmly. “Lie back. And feel,” he whispered.
She did so once again and stared at the ceiling above her. She heard him taking his place in the chair, moving around and then his hands were back on her thighs. He pushed them wider and she blushed so hot that she felt she would combust. He was looking at her in the most intimate way possible.
And then his mouth touched her and all rational thought fled. He kissed her inner thigh, slight scratchiness of stubble abrading the tender flesh in the most intriguing, arousing way. His tongue brushed the same place, soothing and making her ache all at once. He licked and kissed higher, higher as his hands pushed her even wider. Then she felt his breath on her sex. She gripped the coverlet in both fists, bracing for the impact she knew was coming but didn’t understand.
And when he did as he’d promised, when his mouth covered her in that place she’d been told was wicked or dirty or to remain untouched, she recognized her world would truly never be the same.