Chapter Thirty-Two
What Resolution?
When she woke sometime later, the candles had guttered out and she blinked her eyes, not recognizing the vaulted ceiling above, nor the emerald brocade curtains around the bed. Then she recalled she was in Richard’s chamber.
Bright moonlight poured from a crack in the curtains and illuminated a wide swath of the room. He lay sleeping on his side, facing away, the linens twisted under his hips and around one leg. The exposed limb consisted of one sculpted thigh and a strong calf, both lightly dusted with dark hair.
She froze, not quite sure what to do. Despite the enormous bed, his big body filled the space next to her. She caught the scent of cedar and sandalwood in the air with something more—a musky undercurrent.
Butterflies danced in her stomach as she recalled the intimacy they had shared last night.
She cautiously explored the area between her thighs, but all seemed intact.
She snatched her hand back to see if he’d seen her, but his side rose and fell slowly, and every so often she heard a light snore.
Aunt Muriel had snored like a sleeping horse—but Richard’s snore was rather delightful.
But then, she was unreasonably in love with the man.
She surveyed his broad back, delineated by the curve of his long spine and sleek, well-rounded buttocks bare in the cool night air.
The fire in the grate was just embers. She wondered what time it was and if it was appropriate to venture to her room. How ever did one behave after such intimacy?
She thought of when her aunt had awkwardly tried to explain the sexual act.
The elderly lady had warned her that men were beasts, and no one expected a woman to enjoy that part of marriage.
She had been disappointed. She imagined falling in love and the lovemaking to follow as a meaningful and thrilling thing.
If not, why was it the subject of so much music and literature?
Aunt Muriel had pronounced that separate bedrooms were the custom in married households. When you were called upon to do your wifely duty, it was best to close your eyes and lie passively under the painful onslaught. It was usually over soon.
Well, Richard hadn’t done anything quickly. And if what he did was beastly, she was just as guilty, for she had enjoyed everything. And now they were never to sleep in the same bed again?
What if he had been disappointed in her inexperience; or worse, she had been too eager? Suddenly nervous, she sought to extricate herself from the covers as subtly as possible.
But he rolled over to his back, eyes still closed and inserted one long arm under her back, pulling her to his side.
“Where are you going, hmm?” His voice was still husky with sleep. “Stay by me, sweetheart.”
That sounded hopeful. Perhaps she hadn’t been too brazen. But then she imagined what might happen if they were found out. How could she ever explain her behavior?
“Richard, I’m not certain of the time. What if someone discovers me here?”
He groaned and draped a muscular forearm across his forehead. “Damn. Can’t we just escape to Gretna Green and not wait for the nuisance of a wedding?”
She had an image of Lady Amelia’s reaction after she had worked so hard to plan a wedding. What if she knew Fiona was lying in bed naked with her son? She blanched.
“You need not worry,” he soothed. “No one will come until morning, and not until I ring. My apartments are my own.”
He sat up, the sheet slipping from his hips.
She tried not to stare at the blatant arousal jutting toward his stomach.
It was a bit scandalous to lie unclothed next to him, conversing as though nothing was amiss.
But he seemed completely at ease with his nakedness.
Well, that part of him definitely wasn’t at ease.
His lip twitched as if he guessed her thoughts. “It’s a perfectly ordinary reaction, Acushla, when I wake to find my lovely soon-to-be-wedded naked beside me.”
She pointed to his erection. “There is nothing ordinary about that. I can’t believe you fit it inside me.”
His eyes lit with amusement. “I am glad you think me extraordinary,” he said gravely. “And I shall be happy to prove you wrong about fitting together again and again when we are married, my love.”
“Well, that would suit me fine, a ghrá.” She cocked her head, looking at him in admiration. “You are very handsome, you know, Richard…especially unclothed, and being older and such.” Hearing a choked laugh, she regarded her future husband with suspicion.
He lay on his side and propped himself up on one elbow, facing her. He raised an eyebrow. “Just how old do you think I am, Fiona?”
She sensed she was in dangerous territory. “Why don’t you just tell me and be done with it.”
Chuckling, he reached over to circle one coral nipple with his forefinger. “I will be thirty-three in November. Your skin is like fresh cream in the moonlight.”
The sensitive buds ruched, and a streak of fire traveled right to the apex of her legs, which, to her dismay, became damp.
“I suppose that’s not terribly old,” she admitted, her mouth suddenly dry.
“Richard, I’m serious. Someone might see me in the hallway if we wait any longer—not to mention finding us here.
And my father…oh, by the grace of Saint Patrick… what shall we do about my father?”
“I believe it is still too early for anyone to be awake, and I shall convince your father to allow our marriage.” His hand traveled to the curve of her stomach and the ebony thatch of curls below.
He traced the curve of her inner thighs, finding the intimate crease between leg and hip with a featherlight touch.
“Would it shock you if I confess how often I grew hard just thinking of this? Imagined fondling your truly exquisite breasts, and putting my mouth on your most secret place—just here?” He lightly touched her sex.
“You were made for me, Fiona. Your lovely long legs and this ebony triangle hide the most delicate, perfumed flower, which blooms only for me.” He stroked her folds, then the bud between them. Her thighs trembled in response.
Slipping a finger inside her tight portal, he gently explored the passage.
Richard slowly slid his forefinger out and brought it to his mouth, deliberately licking the moisture away.
“You are delicious. Even this part of you carries that scent I can’t chase from my mind.
Lilies of the valley? Lavender? I can’t wait to taste you again. ”
Any thoughts of leaving had flown from her mind. “Richard,” she faltered, “I…”
“Yes, love? Would you like my consideration here?” He illustrated the question by leaning down to slide his finger across the cleft of her sex. “And here?”
Her legs parted of their own volition.
He shifted position and bent to her heated center. Richard’s clever tongue skittered over the folds of her sex. She held her breath, and when he stroked the aching center at last, she arched from the bed with a strangled moan. The sweet friction continued until she hovered on the edge of release.
Was he stopping? She tangled her fingers through his tousled hair and pulled his head downward, but he resisted. “How can you be so calm?” she demanded, frustrated by his control.
He lifted his head. Her heart skipped a beat; his blue-gray eyes smoldered.
“Anything you feel is returned a hundredfold, I promise.” Sliding his hands down her thighs, he lifted her legs. Instinctively, she wrapped them around his waist. It was about to happen. She closed her eyes in anticipation.
“Look at me, Fiona,” he murmured thickly. “I want to see your face as I enter you.”
He positioned himself over her, and the velvety tip of his erection touched her swollen bud.
She quivered, moaning as he slowly slid into her tight portal.
She waited for the pain, but there was none, only a sense of stretching and the exquisite fullness of his warm flesh inside her.
And a deep sense of connection, as if they drew the same breath.
With a sharp intake of air, Richard pulled back slowly and thrust again, this time a bit farther. A bolt of pleasure vibrated throughout her entire body, and she pushed upward, seeking to take him even deeper.
Richard’s cock jerked strongly within her, and even though his large body vibrated with the effort, he continued to stroke within her with agonizing delay, equally torture and bliss to Fiona. She bucked against him, but he continued the deliberate thrusts. Her toes curled with excitement.
“Richard,” she moaned. “I need all of you, Richard, a chuisle mo chró.”
Groaning, he filled her to the hilt. She clenched around his rigid length, fearing he might pull out again.
“Stay with me, Richard, please—mo croi—every breath in my body is yours.”
He panted above her, looking down fiercely as loose locks of dark hair fell across his face and his chest heaved. “I love you.”
He slid deep within her, once, twice…and pleasure broke in waves around her, carrying her to dizzying heights until her release peaked so hard that it almost knocked the breath out of her body.
As in a haze, she watched him freeze in place, blindly grasping for her hands and squeezing them hard. Fiona sensed his bid for control, but she closed tightly around his pulsing member, unwilling to give up a single moment of pleasure.
With a guttural sound, he lifted her buttocks and she gasped as the hot liquid of his release pumped into her. Instinctively, she wrapped her legs tighter, thrusting her pelvis against his stomach as aftershocks of pleasure vibrated through her body.
Moments later, cradled roughly against Richard’s chest, she regained her senses. Their breathing had slowed in tandem, and the faint stubble on his cheeks was prickly against her shoulder.
“Dear God, what was that?” He buried his face in the curve of her neck. “My heart nearly stopped.”
“Mine too.” She stroked his hair. To think she had once thought him cold and aloof. She didn’t mind that it had taken him so long to admit he loved her, for she now knew this side of him—the man hidden beneath formal manners and dress.
He raised his head. “I love you, Fiona. You have turned my life inside out in the most delightful way. You are mine now, and I refuse to rest until we are wed.”
Groaning, he disentangled himself, swinging his long legs over the side of the bed. Brushing his disordered chestnut crop out of his eye, he extended both arms, stretching luxuriously. She couldn’t help but stare at sculpted abdominal muscles and impressive biceps that the effort revealed.
“But to do that, sweetheart, I need to rise and reach out to your father.”
Pushing back her tangled hair, she sat up. “Gra mochroí, how is this much happiness possible? Yesterday I was in despair thinking I had to leave.”
“I will give you a lifetime of joy, my love,” he promised, taking her hand and helping her up from the bed. “But you must return to your chamber. The servants will be stirring shortly.”
She looked past him at the gold clock on the fireplace mantel. Four o’clock in the morning. “How I wish I could play some music at this very moment—the third impromptu of Schubert. Or perhaps Beethoven’s Ode to Joy.”
“The Beethoven I know well, and you would most certainly wake the household.” With a final kiss, he walked over to the discarded pile of their clothing at the doorway, picked up her nightdress, and handed it to her.
As she dressed, he slipped on his heavy silk dressing robe, then helped her pull the brocade wrapper over her nightgown.
“Richard, what if my father still objects? He is so very stubborn. You two must make peace, for I could never marry without his permission.”
He wrapped his arms around her waist from behind, nuzzling her neck. “No, you could not. Don’t worry, Acushla, I will do whatever is needed to rebuild that bridge.”
She glimpsed their reflection in the full-length mirror hanging from the opposite wall.
He met her gaze in the glass. “My God, you’re beautiful,” he murmured.
She was mesmerized by their images—his breadth and height and the chiseled arms around her slender form.
It was as if she watched from outside a window.
He must have thought it erotic as well, for his rigid erection tickled her bottom.
“You are incorrigible, mo fhear dathúil,” she whispered. “I must leave, and you make it very difficult.”
“After our wedding, I will hold you captive here every day until we leave for Ireland.”
“Ireland?”
“I had thought we would honeymoon there while these apartments are renovated and made larger. I bought a small estate near Wicklow, near my stables. Does that please you, Fiona?”
She turned, throwing her arms around him enthusiastically. “Of course it does. Oh, Richard.”
He staggered comically, grinning. “And now you really must go, love, before I take leave of my senses and carry you back to bed.”
Smiling back, she pressed a lingering kiss to his lips, slipping away when his arms tightened around her. Resisting the impulse to skip out of the room, she quietly climbed the stairs to her chamber.