Chapter Twenty
He was so full of his need to show her what he had denied them both that he could not speak.
He did as she asked and discarded his banyan. Her appreciation stunned him. The way her mouth dropped open and her golden eyes glistened in the moonlight slayed him.
But he knew what to do, how to do it. She needed his ardor but also his forbearance. His regard, but also his adoration.
She was so lovely. This young woman who smiled at him and extended a hand was the one he would live with in glee every day of his life. Long, short, however many days he had left, he would ensure he kept her safe, close, and ever smiling.
He went to her, hovering above all that beauty. Every elegant line thrilled him to his toes. “I have never seen such perfection.”
She ran her fingers over his lips and down his throat. “Nor I.”
He kissed his way along her jaw, down her throat, and to the hollow between her breasts. He paused there, swallowing back his impatience. Then he sought her agreement with stern words. “You will tell me how this goes for you.”
“I will.” She arched up, her torso brushing his with encouragement.
He circled his fingers over one firm breast and took her in his mouth.
All satin and fire, she undulated and whispered, “Yes.”
He laved her and she whimpered.
For the other breast, he grew hungry. And so he took her pert, hot nipple between his lips and sucked her up into him.
She opened her thighs and hooked her legs over his hips.
Desire led her. Never had he been so grateful for her ability to meet a new experience, conquer any fears, and take what life gave her. He would not hurt her, and, humbled and honored, he had only self-control to contribute to her introduction to true passion.
Life gave him her. His sob of delight was lodged in his throat.
Her hands drifted to his hips, her own impatience in the move. “Tell me. Take me. Teach me.”
He had to ensure she could take him, that she wanted him enough to enfold him easily, and so he slid one finger, then two, inside her.
She was so ready for him, wet and warm, and he groaned. One day soon, they would play. Many nights from this one forward, they would learn the ways to delight and amuse each other. Tonight was to fulfill the promise of how they loved each other.
He reared back and allowed himself to begin. If she clutched, if she wavered, he would wait. He would wait forever, if need be.
But she put her hands to his hips and moved forward.
His breath left him in a whoosh.
She had him, all of him—and he could do nothing but rejoice and give her more.
*
He ran his fingertips over her lips, and she smiled.
He put his mouth to hers and said, “Slowly.”
And she nodded, his instincts ever so attuned to hers.
He used his hands to stroke her from throat to ribs and tummy, then threaded his fingers downward into her hair.
She arched, the need to have him caress her flesh lower, stronger, making her rise.
He met her with kisses, then he sank one finger inside her again. The fullness of him spurred her to a moan. But one finger was not enough. Two was finer.
She hugged him for it. “More.”
“More,” he agreed, and gave her the flat of his palm and a stroke of his thumb to some startling portion of her core.
“I want that,” she told him, and he gave her a few swift strokes of his fingers. “You,” she whispered. “You are too slow, sir.”
And with that, she watched him swallow hard and rise up to look down, and, with his dedication to her tender initiation, he probed slowly and sank, little by little, inside her.
This! This was what she wanted from him. Only him.
“Rafe,” she said in wonder. “Rafe,” she said in bliss.
But he withdrew.
She clamped a hand to his arm. “You leave?”
“No. No,” he said.
She watched him gather some errant thought. “What?” she asked, horrified something was wrong and she was malformed. Destroyed. Unable.
“I want to be kind.”
She brushed a thick lock of black hair from his forehead. “You are. Always. And so the problem is…what? Am I not capable of having you? Or—”
“I love you, and I have never taken a virgin.”
“That, we both know, I am not.” She sat up to put her head to his shoulder.
“I am afraid to hurt you.”
“There is only one way to destroy that fear. Come. The night is still young.” So she lay down and drew him with her, took one hand of his and put it to her core. “I need you. Try again.”
This time he took long minutes kissing all of her, even her intimate flesh. And that was the most exciting moment until he rose up and again sank slowly, slowly inside her.
He moved and she moaned.
He thrust and she smiled.
He set a rhythm and she flowed with it.
He reached down to stroke once more the spot that thrilled her, and in a daze, she moved against him and lolled her head on the bed.
He caught her lips and pressed so that, all at once, she knew what it was to join with a man whom she loved.
There was no equal.
*
“That was wonderful.” She nestled into his embrace minutes later. The thrill of his affections for her astonished her.
“There is even more to this.”
“You did not show me all?”
He ran his fingers through her hair. “Intimacy can be gentle, but it can also become fierce.”
“And you did not want to hurt me.”
“Nor alarm you.”
She took his lips. “Oh, Rafe. This is the you I adore. And with you, I wish to know all the emotions, all the sensations of what we are to each other.”
“Still, I will go slowly.”
“But we will do this again?”
He laughed. “Again. And again. Until we are speechless.”
She twined one leg through his two and teased him with a brush of her breasts and a wicked brow. “Again. I promise not to say a word.”
*
His hall clock chimed twelve the next day when she awoke. Startled at her surroundings, she sat up. The sheets fell to her waist, and her display was met by the hot appraisal of her lover’s forest-green gaze.
“Good morning, or rather, afternoon.” She grinned at him and made no move to cover herself.
He sat forward in his chair, his hands clasped, and took his time admiring her. “You are the loveliest woman.”
Though barefoot, he had donned his breeches and a shirt.
“Come tell me that here, dear sir.” She inhaled, reveling in the wonderful effect the sight of her breasts had on his devastatingly sharp features.
“I have ordered up a bath and breakfast.”
She cast about. “Have servants been in here?”
“Only me. I do not wish to share you just yet. But they do know you are still here.”
“Of course.” She put one arm out and wiggled her fingers to beckon him. “I need you.”
“Sweetheart, that is not wise.”
“I feel wonderful,” she whispered. “And empty without you.”
He narrowed his eyes, pained, it seemed, at deliberating whether he should obey her. “We made love three times last night and once early this morning.”
“I may be good at numbers, but the total was not enough.” She giggled.
“My darling, I dare not do this again. You are tender.”
“And hungry.” She pushed the bedclothes to one side, put her bare legs to the edge of the bed, her naked toes to the carpet, and stood. “But not for breakfast.”
He sucked in air. “Zeph.” Her name was a plea for mercy.
She had none. Instead, she strolled to him, put her bare knees down at either side of his hips, leaned over him, and bent to speak on his lips. “Think of this as a sort of amuse bouche.”
“Tempting witch,” he growled. His discipline, long dissolved in his repeated consumption of her, left him no will—and with a groan, he took her down on him.
*
The next night, they slept. She lay, open-mouthed, in his embrace as he watched her and marveled that she was his.
He had lost count of how often they had enjoyed each other.
She had reached completion each time and wanted more.
For that, he was proud, but he knew the moment would come soon when what had been a deliberate and sweet union would turn wild with the lust each bore for the other.
He vowed to hold himself in check then, too. And then he sank into sleep.
The second morning, he awakened to her kisses.
But he declared that now he had a purpose.
Loath as he was to say it, he must insist that they part.
He must get a marriage license and a vicar.
She would remain here until dark, when he would see her safely back to Ashley House.
After all, she had come to him in her nightclothes, and he would not have her seen by anyone in such undress.
She pouted when he told her he would leave her. “This is not the end,” she said as she once more draped herself over him in his chair and dropped a kiss to his cheek.
He put one hand to her nape and kissed her like the besotted fiend he was. “You possess me. I am yours. There is no end for us.”
She moved against him, his naked temptation. “I sense you treat me like crystal.”
“You are.”
“I want everything for us, for me, and definitely for you.”
He chuckled. “You are a tease.”
“How wonderful to know I can lure you with words.”
He cupped her cheeks. “With any and all of you.”
“Good.” She settled on to his lap and wiggled in the most provocative manner. But then she stopped and winked at him. “After we say our vows, you will promise to show me new delights.”
“I will.” He suppressed his urge to show her bliss now. “I will not deny you anything you want.”
“Never.”
“Because I love you.”
*
When the sun had sunk below the horizon that evening, Zeph descended the stairs she had climbed to claim him nights ago. Rafe held her hand and led her down, out, and into his carriage.
No one walked the street.
She was pleased at that. Rafe certainly was. But she did not care what Society thought of her. She had the man she had come for—and only that mattered to her.
At Ashley House, Rafe accompanied her inside. With a squeeze of her hands, he let her go. He had kissed her goodbye in his carriage and promised to return for nothing less than a wedding.
“I will send a note with details.” His words uplifted her.
“I will find a gown and pack my trunk.” Rafe had told her he would take her to a small, secluded house north, toward Norfolk, for their honeymoon.
Up in her room, she stood smiling at her surroundings. And at once she frowned at the far wall, where among the other books stood Vaillancourt’s little red one.
She had forgotten about the book, its puzzling codes, and Vaillancourt. But she rang for her maid, a bath, and to be done up for dinner with Kane and Gus. While she waited to become a married woman, she would work on the code.
Perhaps she could offer its secrets as a surprise gift to her bridegroom.