Chapter Fifteen #3
She nodded. He saw her relax. The third kiss was so good it almost undid all his honorable intentions once and for all, sweet, exciting, hot, full of endless promise.
He drew back, watching her, the rise and fall of her breasts beneath the fine lawn of the nightgown, the hot color of arousal in her cheeks. This time she did not open her eyes.
The room was sinking into twilight. Downstairs the wedding feast was rolling on, the guests roaring out songs now, the thunder of feet beating on the floor as they danced.
Robert put out a hand and pulled the ribbon at the neck of the nightgown.
The smooth silk slipped between his shaking fingers.
He bent his lips to the exposed hollow of her throat and curled his tongue against the warm saltiness of her skin.
Lucy made a little sound but kept quite still.
Robert felt strung out like a wire, wound tighter than he had ever believed possible.
Very slowly and carefully he edged the linen from her shoulders and kissed the shadows above her collarbone, the curve of her neck, the little dip beneath her ear, before returning to the base of her throat where the pulse hammered against his lips.
Her lashes fluttered. Her eyes opened.
“That’s nice,” she whispered. “Thank you.”
She sounded so polite. It made him smile. It also made him want to ravish her, ruthlessly and impolitely. Once again he held back.
“It can be nicer,” he said. “But we will wait for that.”
He wondered if he had imagined the flicker of disappointment in her eyes. She had said that she was not afraid of intimacy itself, and he could see that was true. It was the consequences of passion that frightened her.
He kissed her again. Again she responded with trust and openness and a sweet eagerness that almost drove him over the edge.
Just a little more...
He drew the nightgown down a little farther so that he could press his lips to the hollow between her breasts.
It was deliciously warm and soft, and her skin smelled of lavender and roses.
He could see her nipples taut against the thin cover of the silk night rail.
The lust roared through him and he drew back abruptly.
“Enough,” he said, “unless I am to perjure myself already.”
Her eyes opened. She looked puzzled for a moment; then understanding dawned and she blushed.
“Do you wish to go back to your own chamber?” she asked.
“No,” Robert said, praying for self-control. “I want to stay here with you.”
She nodded and closed her eyes. She released her breath on a little sigh, then curled herself into the curve of his shoulder and protecting arm. Her body pressed softly, sweetly, against his.
Dear God. Robert knew he should be glad she had such unquestioning trust in him, but he wondered, half despairing, if every night he spent with Lucy would be passed in this state of helpless arousal.
With a sigh that was a great deal more frustrated than hers had been, he closed his eyes and tried to sleep.
He was still hovering on the edge of wakefulness a couple of hours later when Lucy’s scream pulled him wide-awake.
His hand was halfway to his dirk before he realized that it was no intruder but a nightmare that had disturbed her.
He rolled over to look at her. She was lying on her back, panting hard, her eyes wide.
Her skin was sheened with sweat and when he touched her she felt feverish, her face burning, her hands ice cold.
He tried to draw her toward him, but for a moment she fought him, resisting his comfort.
“It’s all right.” He spoke softly to her, as to a child, soothing her. “It was a bad dream, nothing more. You’re safe with me.”
Her gaze flickered to his face. He saw despair in her eyes.
“Alice,” she said.
He had guessed as much. She had said that she experienced nightmares.
He could not expect them to be banished so quickly.
He repressed the quick pang of anger and despondency he felt that her fears had resurfaced so soon.
It was a sign that she was afraid of her marriage, terrified at the prospect of needing to provide an heir.
But he could not let the despair take him too.
He was certainly not going to give up now, when they had barely begun.
Gently, carefully, he drew her back into the shelter of his arms. He could feel her shivering and used his body to warm hers. Gradually the shaking ceased, she relaxed and her body grew soft next to his again.
“Thank you,” she whispered. He caught the glint of tears on her cheek and brushed them away with the pad of his thumb.
“Go back to sleep,” he whispered.
He held her until she did.
* * *
IT WAS STRANGE waking up with a man in her bed.
It felt unfamiliar and awkward. Lucy woke as pale early-morning light was sliding beneath the shutters and pooling in the room.
The nightmare had fled, driven out by Robert’s gentleness and the warmth of his body.
She remembered drifting off to sleep in his arms. She felt oddly peaceful inside.
For a moment she lay still, absorbing the strangeness of the situation and then she rolled over to look at her husband.
He was asleep, the covers low on his hips, one bronzed arm resting across her body possessively.
In the gray light she could see the perfection of his musculature, like one of the marble statues in the library at Forres.
Except that Robert was warm and living and strong, and she wanted very much to touch him, not with the detached interest she had felt for those cold sculptures but with curiosity and greed.
She felt sensation stir inside her and in that moment remembered Robert’s kisses and caresses of the previous night.
She had been tired and nervous and wound as tightly as a spindle, but she had trusted him and he had not broken his word.
She shivered a little as she remembered his lips drifting across her skin.
She raised a hand to her throat and traced the path they had taken.
Last night she had been almost too exhausted and afraid to be aroused.
Almost. The desire had still stirred in her, though.
And this morning it was sharper, keener.
She felt awake and wanting in some way she did not understand.
Following an impulse she did not want to resist, she placed the palm of her hand on Robert’s chest, over his heart.
His skin felt warm and firm. She wanted to press her lips against him and see what he tasted like.
The thought was a shocking one. It made her jump inside.
She leaned closer, studying his face, the fan of tiny lines at the corners of his eyes, the long thick lashes, the hard slash of his cheekbone.
There was stubble darkening his cheek and jaw.
It looked rough. She was fascinated. She had never been so close to a man before, not like this.
His hand came up, trapping hers against his chest. His lashes flickered open, his eyes a deep dark blue. He smiled, a sleepy smile that made something quicken and tumble in Lucy’s chest.
“Good morning,” he said softly.
His hand tangled in her hair, drawing her down to kiss him. “It is too early to get up,” he whispered against her lips. “Everyone is still asleep.”
It was true that the inn was still quiet. Lucy found herself whispering too.
“What shall we do, then?”
Robert smiled. He drew her down into the warmth of the bed and started to kiss her again as he had the previous night, long, slow kisses that felt sweet and languorous and filled her body with a heavy heat.
It felt different to be doing this in the light of morning, more wicked, more sensual still.
Lucy’s senses were flooded with the taste of him and the scent of his skin.
It mingled with the faded lavender of the bedclothes and made her head spin with longing and need.
He kissed her for a long time; she lost track of time and place and everything except for him, the heat of his body, the touch of his hands and mouth on her, the essence of him.
When she finally broke away, dizzy and racked with desire, she found that her nightgown had slid from her shoulders above and was wrapped about her thighs below and it felt too tight, heavy and imprisoning and she wanted to be free of it.
There was a great deal that she wanted.
“Are you all right, sweetheart?” Robert was stroking her cheek. His fingers felt cool, whilst she felt as though she was burning up.
“No,” she said crossly. “I want...”
He laughed. “We can’t do that.”
How provoking. The hot, heavy weight of demand inside her almost made her drive her clenched fists into the mattress in frustration.
Why did her body have to torment her when her mind would not let her be free?
For a moment she seesawed between longing and fear; for a moment it seemed the sweet need might actually win, but then the scales tipped and the familiar fear swept back, like a steel trap, tightening, draining away all the pleasure until she was left desolate and empty again.
She bit her lip hard. She would not cry.
With a sudden burst of energy, she threw back the covers and stood up. Anything rather than lie here and feel that dark tide sweep in to claim her.
“I am getting up,” she said.
“Come back to bed.” Robert’s voice had deepened. Lucy shivered again, this time not entirely from cold or fear. “No really, I—”
“We need to talk.” He was propped on one elbow now, deliciously rumpled.
She felt a little pang of longing. He looked so handsome and so ruffled.
Her heart seemed to squeeze tight with happiness and pain, inextricably linked.
She edged toward the door, then remembered that they were in her chamber and realized she had nowhere to run.
“I don’t think—”
“You’re frightened.” He spoke flatly, denying her the chance to pretend.
“I understand. But all will be well now, Lucy.” There was gentleness in his eyes.
It made her want to cry. “I’ll look after you.
” She wanted to believe him. She wanted it so much.
And when she could not she felt her heart shrivel with despair.
“Lucy.” Robert was holding out a hand to her. “Come here.”
She could not. For a moment she was absolutely frozen with fear and misery.
Suddenly she knew she had to escape, from the intimacy of the room and the look in Robert’s eyes, from the panic that filled her chest and stole her breath. Memories pressed too close, frightening her. Her defenses felt so fragile now. Something was changing, but she was not quite sure what it was.
“I have things to do,” she said desperately. “Shopping... I need to pack a bag... Mairi can help me.”
“I doubt you will find the Findon shops occupy you for more than an hour,” Robert said. He sighed, pushing back the covers, standing up.
“My reputation will never survive the knowledge that my bride was out of bed so early the morning after the wedding,” he said dryly as he bent to retrieve his shirt from the floor and pulled it over his head.
He came across to her and kissed her again, thoroughly, unhurriedly, so that she could feel the desire beating beneath the gentleness.
“We can’t go back, Lucy,” he said fiercely, against her lips. “I won’t let us.” He dropped his hands from her shoulders and strode from the room.