Chapter 19 #2
Suddenly jittery again, she slid from the bed, deciding it might make him nervous if she looked too impatient and virginal.
Instead, she turned the covers down, arranging herself and her wicked red nightgown artfully.
Far better if she looked rather more… well, sophisticated.
There was not the least point in pretending to be coy when he knew very well she was nothing of the sort.
Finally, the door opened in the sitting area and Hetty’s heart leapt, her pulse hammering as soft footsteps approached the bedroom door.
Gideon walked into the room, his gaze immediately landing upon her, reclined upon the bed, draped in her decadent bit of silky nothing.
He was in his shirtsleeves, his hands upon his waistcoat buttons, of which only one remained fastened.
Hetty felt the heat of his gaze as it swept her from her head to her toes and back again.
“Do you like it?” Hetty burst out, unable to bear the taut silence a moment longer. “Grandmama was horribly shocked.”
“A good thing I’m not your grandmama then,” he said, his lips quirking as he moved towards the bed.
Hetty scrambled to her knees, completely forgetting her desire to look sophisticated.
Any concerns that she might have had fled as their gazes met.
The turbulent grey of his eyes was dark, though they did not speak of storms to come, but rather the intentions he had for his bride and her sinful nightgown.
“You look delectable, and I’m starved,” he said, his voice a deliciously low growl that shivered through her.
“Gideon,” she whispered, his name barely falling from her lips before his mouth pressed against hers and she was pulled into his arms. He kissed her like she was the beat of his heart, critical, elemental, and Hetty was swept away by the power of it.
“My love, my love,” he whispered, breaking the kiss and burying his face in her long hair. “I did not dare hope for such a miracle as you.”
“I’m no miracle, Gideon, so don’t be foolish and go putting me on a pedestal, for I shall only break my neck in the fall. Just love me,” she said, gazing at him earnestly.
“I can do that,” he assured her.
Hetty sighed happily, watching as he cast his waistcoat to one side and stripped off his shirt. Her gaze fell to the line of dark hair that arrowed down his taut belly and disappeared beneath the waistband of his trousers and her pulse raced harder.
He sat on the edge of the bed to pull off his boots and Hetty dared to reach out, sliding her hand over his broad shoulders. Gideon glanced back at her, and she thought his eyes grew darker still.
“You looked magnificent that day on the rocks, by the way. I don’t think I ever told you that,” Hetty said breathlessly, a little surprised to discover his skin was as soft and silken as her own. “I was dreadfully impressed.”
“Were you indeed?” His mouth ticked up in a smile, his eyes glinting as he got to his feet. “Naughty creature. You know very well you ought to have turned away in horror, any proper young lady would have swooned.”
“I’ve never been terribly good at being proper,” Hetty said with a shrug. “Cilly is the proper one.”
“Then it appears I have married the right sister,” he replied, his fingers moving to the fastenings on his trousers.
Hetty grinned at him, and then her mouth went dry as he pushed his trousers and small clothes to the floor in one fluid movement.
He was aroused, a fact that was at once impressive, reassuring, and—if she were entirely honest—a little daunting.
Hetty sucked in a shuddering breath and lay back on the bed as Gideon climbed onto it, prowling over her like some great, hungry predator come to devour her.
“Well, it’s too late to change your m-mind,” she quipped, realising that a naked Gideon at close quarters was rather a lot to take in. There was just… so much of him.
He paused, braced on his arms and gazing down at her. Hetty gazed back, somewhat distracted by the realisation she could feel his arousal, hot and heavy against her thigh.
“Nervous?” he asked.
Hetty licked her lips. “Not precisely. I trust you, so I’m not afraid, but… but I don’t… I don’t wish to disappoint you,” she said in a rush.
His gaze became tender, his voice gentle as he bent and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Hetty, you’ve spent such a lot of time and effort proving to me you are not a ninny, don’t spoil it now. As if you could disappoint me.”
Hetty relaxed a degree, raising her hands and putting them on his shoulders, tempted into sliding them down his arms over the swell of his biceps. “I just like to do things well, Gideon. I like to impress you, you see, to make you proud.”
“I have never been prouder than today, in church, when I saw you walking towards me. Nothing I ever achieve in my life, no building, no career, no amount of success, will ever supersede that feeling. So, if you’ve stopped fretting, might you allow me to make love to you now?”
Hetty sighed. “You say the nicest things, Gideon.”
He chuckled, pressing his mouth to the place her pulse leapt at the base of her throat. “And the most provoking,” he murmured against her skin.
Smiling, Hetty thought of a witty reply to this comment, but then his mouth closed over her nipple and he suckled gently, and that was it for conversation, for thought, for anything other than experiencing all her new husband wished to share with her.
He turned onto his side, taking her with him, his eyes glittering with desire as he reached for her hand, placing it on his chest.
“Touch me.”
Hetty, never one to refuse an invitation, agreed with alacrity.
She remembered the day on site when she had first seen his bare arms, and all that wiry hair.
How she had longed to touch it, and here was his chest, similarly covered.
She slid her fingers through it, fascinated by the texture of silky skin over hard muscle and then the mat of coarse hair.
His nipples were surprisingly delicate though, small and pink.
As she touched one with a fingertip, it turned to a hard little nub and Hetty grinned at the discovery, more so as he shivered with pleasure.
Overcome with tenderness for him, she moved closer to press a kiss over his heart.
He pulled her against him, her naked breasts brushing his chest, and creating a delicious sensation that made her shiver.
Hetty smoothed her hands over him, stroking his chest and belly, her questing palms moving down over his lean hips.
She investigated his strong thighs, honed to pure muscle from work and riding, and then, inevitably, the thick thatch of dark hair and his arousal that twitched with anticipation as her hand grew closer.
Gideon let out a low moan as she dared to stroke a finger down the length of him.
She stared, intrigued and startled by the intense heat and the silken texture.
How strange to think they had disliked each other so, such a short time ago, except that she knew it had not been dislike now.
Not really. It had been some undeniable pull that neither of them—stubborn creatures that they were—knew how to react to.
But they had figured it out in the end, together, as they would conquer everything that lay before them together.
Being with Gideon was everything she had never even known to dream of.
Hetty curled her fingers around him and stroked gently, aware of the throbbing pulse that seemed to echo the strangely insistent ache that had begun in her own body.
He sighed and rolled onto his back as Hetty watched him, watched the muscles in his face and body contract as she continued to caress him, slow and careful, up and down.
He flung his arm over his eyes, biting his lip.
How strange, it almost looked as though he was in pain, though she knew that could not be.
His hips bucked, and an urgent sound escaped him.
“Enough, or I’ll spend,” he growled, shaking his head.
She released him with a sigh of regret, and Gideon gave a soft bark of laughter. “Don’t worry, love, you can practise all you like another time. I’m perfectly willing.”
He propped his head on his arm, gazing at her. “That nightgown is quite the loveliest thing I’ve ever seen you in—what little there is of it. I vote you order more in different colours, but for now, might we take it off?”
Hetty nodded, telling herself it was silly to be shy with her husband, and she refused to allow it.
So she sat up, tugging the red silk over her hips, and then raised her arms as Gideon pulled it up over her head and flung it to the floor.
For a moment she could not meet his eyes, but when she did, his expression made heat rush through her like flames sweeping across dry grass.
For he sat staring at her, the blatant desire in his eyes enough to make everything feminine in her quiver, liquid heat pooling low in her belly.
His chest rose and fell faster now, and he let out a ragged breath.
“Thank God, Hetty,” he said fervently. “Thank God for you, and—and I cannot believe I’m saying this—but for Damian too, for freeing me from my fate so I might be here, with you.”